


This Love Will Be Our Downfall

by Pearls1975



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Best Friends, Dysfunctional Family, Family Drama, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, M/M, family comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-14
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2017-12-29 11:04:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1004681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pearls1975/pseuds/Pearls1975
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Sherlock and John's relationship started when they were teens, but circumstances and people being the way they are, they were forced to be apart?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Anything Can Happen

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Teen/AU that popped into my head one rainy evening. I couldn't tell you one thing that inspired it, but here is chapter one. My resistance to shipping Sherlock and John is breaking down slowly. I believe I am in love with the bond that Sherlock Holmes and John Watson share as friends and co-workers. It's a very strong relationship that goes beyond any physical or vocal expression. That being said, this will be full of physical expression in later chapters! Any comments or questions are welcome and encouraged! Thank you for reading.

“It's fine John, we'll just get you a tutor.” John's mother Sophia ruffled his sandy blond hair. It was a cool late October evening and Sophia was cleaning the dinner dishes as her children did their homework. 

Across the kitchen table, John's sister, Harrietta snorted. “Like that'll help.”

“Shut up, Harry!” John yelled, calling his sister by the nickname he'd given her.

“Harrietta, hush.” Their mother scolded. 

John and Harry stuck their tongues out at each other.

“Mom, I'm fine, I don't need a tutor.” 

“Son, you need to get good marks this year and from here on out if you want to get into any sort of medical school.” 

Harry snorted again.

“Etta, go to your room and study, please.” Sophie said with a sigh as she loaded the dishwasher.

“Gladly,” Henry gathered her books and ran her hand through her unruly red hair. She left in a huff of striped socks and big black boots. 

John sighed and tapped his pencil. 

Sophie gave John a comforting smile. He loved his mothers smiles. They would make her pretty green eyes crinkle at the edges and she had one tooth that she hated that was out of place but only family knew about. Her sandy blond hair was curly, but not as much as Harry's. John felt himself lucky that he didn't inherit that trait. 

“Besides, this is all advanced, way too much for your mother's reporter mind. You don't want my help.”

“But I don't want some dumb college kid making fun of me.” 

“Well, what if I told you it's not a college kid, it's a retired professor?” She asked as she turned on the dishwasher.

“Ugh, old and stodgy.” John crossed his arms and pouted.

“No, not this one,” Sophie started a kettle. “This one retired early so he could focus on his own studies and the studies of others.”

The boy furrowed his brow and turned to face his mother. “What? Who does that?”

“William Holmes.” Sophie said matter-of-factually as she leaned against the counter.

“Oh,” John turned back to his homework. 

“Now, what is that supposed to mean?” She asked as she poured the hot water over the tea.

“One of his sons is in the same grade as I,” John scrubbed his face with his hands as he thought of the pompous ass known as Sherlock Holmes. “He's also in a couple of my classes and he sits in the back and sneers at everyone like we're all stupid. I've gotten in a couple of arguments with him-” John clamped his hand over his mouth. 

“So he's the kid you got in trouble with.” Sophie said as she sat back in the chair next to John who was leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed, a foul look on his face.

“No, he got me in trouble!”

Sophia patted her son's shoulder. “Well you won't have to worry about the boy, the father will be tutoring you.”

“Still a ratty ole Holmes.” John said under his breath as he grabbed his pencil and started on his homework again.

Sophie shook her head and grabbed her tea and walked into the living room.

John looked up as his mother left the room. From where he was sitting he had a pretty good view of his fathers Army picture hanging in he living room. His father was a handsome man, as fathers go; John didn't really go around comparing fathers. The boy inherited all of his fathers looks, except the ginger-blond hair. Harry was the lucky one in that area. Hamish, John's middle name came from his mothers father. Harrietta was a feminized version of John Sr.'s middle name. John Sr. died three years ago taking a bullet for a fellow officer. John Jr. was very proud of his father, but he missed him very much. 

John sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose. He closed his books and gathered his papers into a neat pile and scooted everything aside. He wasn't going to get anything done at this rate. 

“I'm going outside, I need a break.” He called to his mom, before stepping out into the crisp October air. 

 

****

John didn't expect the Holmes family to be living in a flat, although, to be fair he wasn't sure what to expect. It was the next afternoon as John and Sophia walked up to the front door of that flat. She pushed the doorbell, then turned to John and started fussing with his hair and collar. 

“Now, please remember your manners and sit up straight and-”

“Mom. I'm fifteen. I wish you would remember that.” 

“I'm sorry John. You and Harrietta are growing up so fast I can't-”

“Good afternoon, you must be the Watsons?” The door opened with a flourish and a woman with stylish chestnut hair and a warm smile greeted them.

“Yes thank you,” Sophia held her hand out. “I am Sophia and this is John.”

“I'm Amanda, I'm William's assistant. Nice to meet you both.” Amanda shook both of their hands and gestured them into the flat. Amanda went on talking, but John heard none of it as he took in his surroundings. It wasn't Buckingham Palace by any means, but it was statelier than their little flat in the middle of town. Everything seemed to have a gleam to it, like the housekeepers spent extra time polishing everything. Even the banister to the staircase to his right seemed to shine. John's eye followed the banister to the top of the stairs and stopped. His eyes met scornful light-bluish green eyes and John looked away for a second. Sherlock. He looked back again, and the eyes were still staring at him. This time they held genuine curiosity, with only a touch of scorn. 

“John, c'mon honey,” Sophia called. 

John looked at her. He hadn't realized he had fallen behind and ran to catch up with his mother and Amanda. They were standing in front of a study door as Amanda knocked to garner the attention of the men inside. They both looked up. The older gentleman had a warm welcoming look on his face, while the other had a look of sharp irritation in his round face. Both men had dark hair and a smart profile. 

“Mr. Holmes, the Watsons are here to see you sir.” Amanda said. 

“Of course. Come in, please.” William stood.

“If there is nothing else father?” The younger man asked pointedly as he gathered paperwork from the large mahogany desk.

“No, Mycroft, thank you.” William said as he nodded and buttoned his suit jacket. 

Mycroft placed the paperwork in a leather briefcase, grabbed his coat from the back of the chair and stood and left the room, not before shooting the Watsons a disdainful smile. 

John glanced over his shoulder and saw that Sherlock was standing just outside the office, his eyes locked on John and made him feel like he was bring hunted. John shivered. 

“Thank you very much for meeting us. I appreciate it very much.” Sophia said as she shook William's hand. 

“You are welcome...pardon me I am terrible with names,” William tilted his head toward Sophia. 

“Oh gosh, I'm Sophia and this is John.” Sophia tried her hardest not to sound flustered as she put a hand on John's shoulder. 

“It's nice to meet you John.” William shook his hand.

“Thank you sir. Nice to meet you too.”

“Please, call me William.” He gestured to the two seats. “Please sit. Amanda, will you bring tea, please?” 

“Of course,” Amanda nodded and left. 

“I've been reading your file, John and I have to say that I am impressed. With these marks, you'll make it into medical school in no time.” William said after everyone had settled. He had a manilla folder in his hand and he was pointing at it. 

“Thank you s-...thank you William.” 

“I know we talked on the phone, Sophia, but please tell me again what I can help you with?”

“I was hoping that you could give John some help with the more advanced math that has come up in his studies. I'm afraid I can't help. I was never this advanced. He gets his brains from his father.”

Amanda came in with the tea and poured while they talked about John's study habits and his future. Suddenly, Sophia's expression became very serious.

“May I have a few moments of your time?” 

William furrowed his brow at her. “Of course.”

“John, can you leave us alone for a couple moments.”

“Uh, sure,” John fidgeted and stood and turned to leave the room. He saw Sherlock standing across the foyer leaning against the staircase, his arms and legs crossed.

“I-I'll give the young man a tour of the premises.” Amanda broke the awkward silence and and she stood and put her hand on the small of John's back. Sherlock simply stared at John and Amanda.

“Mr. Holmes-” Sophia continued when they left and the door was shut.

“William, please.”

“Y-Yes, William,” Sophia paused to compose herself. “I did bring John here to be tutored, but, I...well...It's...” 

The words caught in her throat and William pushed her tea towards her. She nodded and took a drink. 

“Mrs. Watson, I-”

“Ms. Watson- er Sophia, please,” she placed a hand on her warm cheek. 

“Oh, I'm sorry.” A sudden realization came over the elder Holmes as he grabbed the handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to the woman. She was on the verge of tears. 

“Thank you,” Sophia swallowed hard as she accepted the handkerchief. “Ever since my husband's death, things have been different, of course. And the children were sad at first, of course, but they seem to have adjusted well, at least I think they have. I just feel like John should have some sort of male influence in his life. I was hoping you could be a mentor of sorts?” Sophia was wringing her hands the whole time she was talking. 

William smiled. 

“I don't want to be a burden and I’ve always been of the thought that it never hurts to ask for something.”

“Ms. Watson,” William folded his hands on the desk. He was still smiling as he spoke, which seemed to have a calming effect on Sophia. “I completely understand. Because of circumstances beyond anyone's control, the boys' mother doesn't live with us anymore. Amanda is not only my assistant, she helps me with Mycroft and Sherlock as well. Don't misunderstand, we only have a working relationship, although we are good friends. I would be happy to mentor your son, Ms. Watson.”

Sophia let out a breath she didn't realize that she was holding.

“Thank you very much, Mr. Holmes!” Sophia said. “I really appreciate this.”

 

“So John, are you into any sports, or music, drama maybe?” Amanda asked as they strolled out to the garden out the back of the flat. 

“I play clarinet, and I tried out for the cricket team, but it wasn't for me.” John couldn't help but peek over his shoulder at Sherlock who had been following them. 

“Cricket is for dumb jocks anyway.” Sherlock said derisively. 

“Sherlock,” Amanda glanced at the boy out of the corner of her eye. John watched the exchange and looked back at Sherlock. He was glaring at Amanda, but as soon as he looked over at John, his expression lightened. 

“Afghanistan or Iraq?” 

“Sherlock, stop.” Amanda had stopped walking and turned to face Sherlock who had his arms crossed defiantly. 

Sherlock quirked his eyebrow as John gave him a scornful look.

“What is that supposed to mean?” John started to walk toward Sherlock, but Amanda stopped him.

“No, please ignore him. Let's-”

“No. I'm curious now, thank you.” John nodded at Amanda who opened her mouth to try to object one more time, but shut it when she saw the resolve in John's eyes.

Sherlock raised his brow, but it was the only emotion he showed. Not only was he surprised that John agreed to let Sherlock deduce him, but the fact that John defied Amanda, made Sherlock even more curious about John. 

The boy stood in front of Sherlock, open palms and an open book. 

“I can see that you are a military brat, your hair is cut short and proper. Your uniform top, which is a polo, has been ironed, so have your pants, to have creases in the proper places. You walk like you idolize the military, but you can't quite keep a good pace. Your father has either been wounded or killed in service and your mother has been taking care of you the past two years because you smell more of her than you do a father. Your sister loves you, but picks on you incessantly. Was your father in Afghanistan, or Iraq?” 

Amanda tried to interrupt several times but neither boy heard her. 

John stood looking at him mouth agape. 

“How...?” 

Sherlock's only reply was a small smirk, and quirk of his eyebrow.

John drew in a deep breath through his nose.

“Don't ever mention my father again.” 

Sherlock shrugged one shoulder. “You wanted to know how I knew.” 

“That's enough Sherlock.” Amanda's voice finally broke through to them. 

John looked down at his shoes and saw another pair of shiny men's shoes come into his view. 

“Everything okay Amanda?” William's deep voice seemed to boom through the hall way. 

“Yes Mr. Holmes. Just reigning in Sherlock's ego.”

“If anyone can do it, it's you Amanda!” William laughed heartily. It reminded John of his father's laugh. 

Sherlock harrumphed and sulked off. 

John was mad, but also curious. He had seen kids on the end of Sherlock's deducing wrath, and the situation always ended badly; either in a fight, or the other kid bullying Sherlock. John wanted to hop in, but he never knew who to defend. It was the stupid kids fault for getting involved with Sherlock. At the same time, Sherlock should know by now that the kids are taunting him. When John finally got involved, he ended up defending Sherlock, even though he regretted it instantly. The other kid took a swing at John and John swung back and connected with the other kids jaw. He, in turn, tackled John and they both ended up in the dirt, a bloody mess. They also received detention. John later found out the boy was the star cricket player. And Sherlock never said thank you. 

“C'mon John, time to go.” Sophie had her hand on his shoulder as he nodded. 

“Thank you Mr. Holmes and Amanda. I hope to see you soon.” John smiled warmly at the two adults. 

“I'm glad that Sherlock didn't scare you off. He has a tendency to do that sometimes.” Amanda said as she clasped her hands in front of her.

“No, I'm more curious of him than anything else, now. I guess I'll try to make friends with him at school.” John was looking off in the direction that Sherlock had walked. 

The three looked at each other awkwardly and Sophia broke the silence.

“Well, thank you both for having us today. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow when I pick up John.” 

“You won't be dropping him off?” Amanda asked.

“No, unfortunately. I have to work. I'll leave bus money-”

“That won't be necessary, Ms. Watson. I have to pick up Sherlock and my daughter Emile form the same school, it's no trouble to pick up John as well.” 

“I don't want to burden you-”

Amanda gently placed her hand on Sophia's arm. “Trust me, it's no bother!”

Sophia drew in a deep breath. “O-Okay.” 

Amanda smiled and her whole face lit up. 

“Alright, then it's settled.” William's smile was infectious. “I must get back to work, but it was nice meeting you two and I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.” 

John and Sophia said their goodbyes and Amanda walked them out. As he walked past the staircase, John followed the banister up to the top again, and again, saw Sherlock. This time he was sitting with his body vertical to the stair rail and his face pressed through the bars, his eyes following John. 

John furrowed his brow and shook his head, trying to rid of the creepy feeling that Sherlock was somehow trying to read his mind. 

 

Amanda had told John to meet Sherlock and Emile by the lamp post at the end of the block, that way she could avoid other moms and traffic. He was leaning against the post at a quarter to four, since his class got out early that day. He had seen Sherlock take off before him, but wasn't able to catch up with him. Now he looked around, and didn't see the boy anywhere. Other school kids were milling around nearby waiting for their rides, when John happened to spot a beautiful girl walking towards him. Her hair was a shiny chestnut brown color, similar to Amanda's and pulled back with a dark green head band that matched the green in the jumper uniform the girls had to wear. She was walking with a pretty blond girl and when they both laughed, it sounded genuine, not like the fake cheerleader laughs that he heard most girls have. As she came closer, she looked up at John and her smile got bigger. It was similar to Amanda's in that it lit up her whole face. John looked bashfully at his shoes, then back up at her and smiled. 

“Hi, you must be John?” Her voice was even pretty. 

“Ah, yeah, hi,” 

'Smooth, real smooth,' he thought to himself. 

“Yes, sorry, I am John, nice to meet you.” He held out his hand.

“I'm Emile, Amanda's daughter,” she said as she shook his hand and then gestured at her friend. “And this is Mary. Mary Morstan.” 

John and Mary smiled at each other. Mary's blond hair was cut shoulder length and her blue eyes sparkled when she smiled. 

'Dammit, this would be easier if they were ugly.' 

“Stop staring John, it's unbecoming of you.” Sherlock suddenly seemed to appear out of no-where. 

“Emile,” Sherlock said with a slight sneer, or so John thought. “And Mary, always a pleasure to see you.” He took Mary's hand and kissed it before John could shake it. 

“Ugh, Sherlock, why do you have to be so...weird?” Emile asked.

“Oh? I thought I was being charming.” He smiled at both girls. John saw that Mary was trying hard not to blush.

“So, another afternoon at the Holmes household, eh John?” Sherlock held his hands behind his back as he observed the other kids nearby. 

“Another?” Emile asked as she pulled her hair back out of her face. 

“Yes, he came over yesterday with his mum while you were in Orchestra practice.  
Something about father tutoring him. Boring.”

“Yes, and you should have been in orchestra practice as well, mister.” Emile glared as she talked to Sherlock. When she turned to John, her expression lightened. “Now that I think of it, you are in orchestra as well aren't you?”

“Yeah, I play clarinet-” John started.

“I play flute. I've seen you in the front row. You're really good.” Mary piped in.

“Oh, um, thank you.”

“Boring,” Sherlock said as he walked through their conversation to get to Amanda's car.

“How was school, guys?” Amanda asked a few minutes later after everyone piled into the car. Sherlock groaned and hunkered down into his seat behind Amanda and placed his earphones in his ears. John sat in the middle and Mary on his left, with Emile in the front turned as far as the seat belt would allow, to face everyone. 

“It was well, thank you, Amanda.” Mary said. “And thank you for picking me up, I appreciate it.” 

“It's not a problem. I'm excited for the sleepover tonight.” 

Emile clapped her hands and Sherlock tried to push himself further into the seat. 

“Oh god,” he mumbled. 

John swallowed hard. He felt like he was a third wheel in this whole situation and was wishing he would have told his mother to not worry about starting the tutoring tonight, on a Friday night, nonetheless. Not that John had anything going on besides a video game and maybe a book to read. Maybe his one friend Mike would have called and asked if he wanted to play some pool, or go to the arcade, but that was the extent of his Friday nights. Now, he had a tutoring session and squealing girls to deal with. 

“Oh, John, I apologize, Mr. Holmes has a dinner party he has to attend this evening, so we postponed the tutoring until Monday. I've already talked to your Mum, and she said it was fine. She works until eight, right? Well, you should stay with us until then. Unless you want to go home?”

Internally, John was screaming. He wanted the tutoring session. Now he would have to find a quiet room to read for four hours. 

“You can hang out in my room. I'm probably gonna hole up there all evening to avoid their madness.” Sherlock was holding one ear bud in his hand as he spoke. There was no scorn, no hint of sarcasm. His expression was mostly bored. It was like these people were reading his mind. 

“Ah, sure, alright, I'll hang at your house then.”

Amanda smiled at him in the rear-view. “Good, I'm glad!” 

John smiled back at her as he listened to the girls prattle on about the evening ahead. He dug in his bag for his player and felt Sherlock watching him. He looked out of the corner of his eye and indeed did see those mysterious blue-green eyes looking at him, or his hands digging in his bag. He found his player and pushed the play button and placed the earphones over his ears. He looked directly at Sherlock who smirked at John. John wasn't sure what kind of expression he gave Sherlock, he was so confused at their exchange, and Sherlock actually grinned as he looked away.


	2. The Spark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is chapter two of my Teen!Lock fan-fiction. Keep in mind I have placed this in the year 1993 because they are in high school. I apologize, I'm not sure what the equivalent is in the U.K. This might seem dis-jointed and I apologize for that! This is subject to changes and improvements in the future. If you have questions, or comments or concerns, please let me know! I don't bite, hard!

"C'mon, before they suck you into something you don't want to do." Sherlock was halfway up the staircase and gesturing wildly when John meandered into the flat. The girls were a couple of steps ahead and talking excitedly among themselves. John quickly closed the front door and trotted up the stairs to follow Sherlock to his room. It was surprisingly messy, with piles of books and papers and a skull on his dresser to his right that John pointed at.

"A skull?"

"He's...a friend." Sherlock grinned and gestured to the bench under the window across from the door way. A pillow with a Union Jack design on one side rested comfortably in the corner.

"I need to talk to my father before he leaves for his dinner party." Sherlock said as he took off his coat and hung it on the back of the door and walked out of his room.

John sighed. He already had a long day, and he wasn't sure if he was ready for the emotional roller coaster of questions he was sure Sherlock was going to heap on him.

He sat on the bench and placed his messenger bag on the floor beside him. The view out of the window was pretty remarkable. He had a distant view of the London eye and tower. A mist hung in the air, obscuring the view to the rest of the town, but he could see, in the fading daylight, the lights from the city poking through the mist.

Even though the rain that fell earlier in the day made everything cold and damp, the girls were out in the garden in the back of the flat. William came into view along with Sherlock. John could see where Sherlock inherited his mysteriously sculpted cheekbones and the dark hair. He also saw the lean and lanky way they stood was similar as well. Sherlock said something to his father and pointed up to the room where William looked and waved. John waved back and smiled. Sherlock said something to someone out of John's view, then walked away.

John brought his attention to Sherlock's room again. The walls were painted a standard beige color. John had missed a picture of a skull in his first assessment of the room, hanging over the head of Sherlock's bed that was opposite him, on the same wall as the door. He also noticed a picture on Sherlock's nightstand that looked like a woman. John was so intrigued by this, he forgot to listen for Sherlock's footsteps on the stairs. He sat on the bed and grabbed the picture. It was a woman; a woman with big blue-green eyes and full lips that resembled Sherlock's.

"My mother was a very logical woman living in a very emotionally charged house." Sherlock's voice startled John who fumbled the picture and almost dropped it. Sherlock knelt and grabbed it in time.

"Bloody hell," John said under his breath as he put a hand over his heart.

Sherlock chuckled. "Don't worry, I can replace the frame. I don't care about that."

He was still kneeling in front of John as he placed the frame back on his nightstand.

"Ah... so, what happened to her?" John said as he scratched his head nervously.

"Hmm...my father had an affair with a psychology professor, ironically enough, and my mother couldn't handle it. She divorced him and moved to France to be with her relatives there. Father bowed out gracefully at the University, which is why he tutors." Sherlock scrubbed his face with his hand.

"Oh..." John was going to apologize for asking, but remembered what Sherlock did to him yesterday and stopped himself.

"Why aren't you living with your mother?"

"I don't get along with her mother, my grandmother. Plus, I like London."

Sherlock stood and ran a hand through his hair. "I was right yesterday wasn't I?"

"Yes, you were." John refused to look at him, staring at his hands instead.

"C'mon, you can admit it. You are curious how I knew all that about your father aren't you."

"I don't feel like talking about my father." John looked up and found Sherlock bent at the waist, his hands on his hips and a cocky look on his face that disappeared as soon as he saw the hurt in John's eyes.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "You were very close to your father. You miss him, more than you will admit. Your mother is hoping that you will bond with my father to have some sort of male influence in your life-"

"Shut-up Sherlock!" John suddenly stood. He was a couple of years older than Sherlock, but they were the same height. "You need to think before you say things."

Sherlock blinked at John.

"I'm going to leave-" A cold hand gripped John's wrist tightly as he started to grab for his bag. He looked down at the hand, then up at Sherlock's face. The expression he wore was something John had never seen there before. "What the-"

"You are right." Sherlock's voice was low and soft. "I should think before I speak. I can't. It's...It is..."

Sherlock swallowed hard and he blinked several times. Normally, John would make a jab at another boy for crying. Seeing the emotions that crossed Sherlock's face; he couldn't bring himself to do that to Sherlock.

"It is...what?" John prompted the other boy.

Sherlock pursed his lips. John could almost see Sherlock's brain working overtime.

"It's hard for me to control what I say. I have to speak my mind. I have to vocalize what I am thinking sometimes. And sometimes it doesn't make sense."

John blinked.

"Is it as hard to express emotions? Or gratitude?"

"I- what?"

"I see you struggling right now with something, and I think it's this exchange. No one has ever confronted you like I have." John pulled the hand into view on which Sherlock had a tight grip. "You are also hurting my hand."

"Oh," Sherlock let go and John shook his hand to get the feeling back. "Please don't leave."

"What?" John was still shaking his hand.

"I was hoping you would stay. That's why I had the tight grip on your hand."

"I...umm..." John looked everywhere but Sherlock. He'd never had this happen with another boy. He'd had girls ask him to stay, although to be fair on John's part, he had no idea what he was doing at the time. He was thirteen, he didn't realize that girls hearts could be broken so young. He had gotten in fights with his friends over stupid video game, he'd go cool off and they'd apologize. Well, more like grunt at each other.

Confused, John sat down on the bench under the window. "Yeah, I'll stay. Whatever."

"Good, I'm glad." Sherlock said slowly. "Thank you, and I am sorry, John."

John was so surprised at the words, he wasn't sure he heard them right. He went to stand in front of Sherlock again. The boys eyes were shut tight and his fists were shaking.

"It's alright, Sherlock, my hand-"

Sherlock suddenly sprung into life and grabbed John's hand again. "No, you don't understand. It's not just the hand. It's everything. It's you defending me that day, it's you talking to me in class like I am human, it's you making me want to feel something again."

John stared incredulously at Sherlock.

Sherlock's bottom lip started to shake and he sniffed. "My mother taught Mycroft and I to value our brains and educating them, over emotions and feelings. She said that those things would just get in the way and complicate everything. When she left, I didn't know what to think, how to contain the emotions I was feeling. I was angry for the longest time, because, if she followed what she said to be true, she wouldn't have left, because that meant she didn't feel anything for my father. But she did, and she left us."

A tear spilled from Sherlock's eye and John and he looked down at his shoes.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock." John's voice came out in a whisper.

Sherlock sniffed and looked at his hand wrapped around John's wrist and released it.

"I know we don't know each other well, but-" John paused, unsure of himself, and surprised at the things he was going to say. "But if you want to talk about it-"

Sherlock drew in a sharp breath and tapped at his head. "I'm not sure that's a good idea. I have a lot going on up here that my therapist can't even sort out."

"You have a therapist?" John said slowly as his brow furrowed.

"Yes." Sherlock sighed loudly and sat down on his bed. To Sherlock's surprise, John sat next to him. Sherlock's eyes darted over John's face.

No Judgment.

Only an open, honest face.

"My mom put me into group therapy of sorts," John cleared his throat and looked down at his hands in his lap. "When my father died..."

Sherlock scooted closer to John.

John sniffed and looked up. "Ever since my father died, I've had nightmares. Mom wasn't strong enough to deal with them herself, although, she was comforting at night. There were a couple of times I woke up swinging and fighting."

"I was right, you were close to your father. But why the violent nightmares?"

John clenched his jaw, but kept his sarcasm to himself. "Yes, we were close. The last time I talked with him...was a very late Sunday evening, one or two in the morning, I think. He was thinking his unit was going to be called out into the field, so he told them that they each could have one call." John's throat became tight, his eyes watery. "My father...my father told me he loved me, and that no matter what, he was proud of me and he would talk to me in two weeks."

John wiped his eyes with the heel of his hand. "Sorry, I don't know why I unloaded on you like that just now. It's not something that I share with a lot of people. I should leave you alone-"

John started to get up, but was stopped again by Sherlock's tight grip around his arm.

"No! Stay, please. I was just going to be reading or researching," Sherlock paused and ran a hand through his unruly dark hair. "Maybe it would be good for both of us to just sit and talk."

John's eyes searched the others face. He saw nothing but open honesty there. So open, that it scared John a little. He had never seen such raw emotion since his father's funeral. The way his mother cried made his heart-break, and it hurt now thinking about it.

"What are you thinking about?" Sherlock's voice broke into his thoughts.

"Sorry, what?"

"I saw something in the look you gave me just now."

John gave a small smile. "My mother says I have a very expressive face. That I wear my heart on my sleeve, whatever that means."

"It means to display your emotions openly. It may derive from the custom at middle ages jousting matches. Knights are said to have worn the colors of the lady they were supporting, in cloths or ribbons tied to their arms. I don't think it dates from that period though. I believe it was first recorded in Shakespeare's 'Othello'. Iago's plan was to feign openness and vulnerability to appear faithful."

John opened his mouth to say something, but was so rattled by Sherlock's train of thought that nothing came out.

Sherlock smirked.

"I am part of the theatre group at the school and we are putting on Hamlet in early December." He stood and grabbed the skull. "Hence the skull."

"You are full of surprises aren't you?" John narrowed his eyes at Sherlock and the dark-haired boy winked at him.

"More than you know."

"Sherlock?" Amanda's soft voice and a gentle knock on Sherlock's door stopped Sherlock from going into his piece on Hamlet.

"Yes, Amanda?" Sherlock had to clear his voice before he answered her and he held the back of his hand to his mouth as he watched John get up and open his bag.

"John's mother is on the phone." Amanda said as Sherlock opened the door.

"Thank you, Amanda, John can take it in here."

"Oh, okay." She smiled warmly at John and he gave an awkward smile back at her. "Everything okay in here? You two have been awfully quiet."

"Yes, we were just studying and reading." Sherlock pursed his lips together and nodded and started to close the door. "Thank you Amanda."

"You're welcome, Sherlock. John can spend the night if he needs to! Oh and there is dinner in the kitchen. Home made pizza."

"Thank you, we'll be down in a minute." Amanda nodded and Sherlock closed the door.

"Where's your phone?" John asked.

"Oh, yes. It's over here." Sherlock walked over to his desk in the corner of the room and lifted papers to reveal the phone. John walked over and grabbed the phone. Before he could push the talk button, a hand came into view. He looked up and Sherlock's gaze bore into John as he drew in a sharp breath.

"You are welcome to spend the night." His voice was low and it rumbled through John's muddled brain. It affected him so, that all he could do was nod once.

"Hi, mum," John stuttered as he turned away from Sherlock who cocked his head to hear the conversation. It took all his self-control to not hug John when he heard him ask if he could spend the night.

"Thank you, mum. Love you. Okay...okay...yes, oh, um I never thought of that...Wait I have an extra outfit...yes mum. I'll be fine, I promise. K, yes...Love you too. Bye."

John pushed the off button and turned. Sherlock was right behind him.

"Oh, god," the sandy-haired boy put his hand over his heart. "Why do you have to stand so close to me?" John smirked as a song ran through his head.

"Are you spending the night?" Sherlock cocked his head. "Why are you smiling?"

"Don't stand so, don't stand so, don't stand so close to me..." John sang and snapped his fingers. He stopped when he saw the confused expression on Sherlock's face.

"Right, let's get something to eat." Sherlock turned on his heel and John followed him out of the room and down the stairs.

John ended up spending the weekend at Sherlock's house. Thinking back on it over the week, he surprised himself by putting up with Sherlock. John found out however that Sherlock was worse around other people, but he was civilized to John.

It wasn't until three weeks later that he found out why.

John was in his living room pacing. He was early in getting ready for the date that he had finally gotten the courage to ask Mary Morstan out on.

"Dude, calm down." Harry said as she entered the room with a couple of sodas and tossed one to John who almost dropped his. "She said yes, and she's pretty to boot. You've got this!"

"Why are you being nice to me all of a sudden?"

"Because, you are my baby brother, you are going on your first date. Mom and dad aren't here to witness it, so I want to make sure you are...sent off properly."

John looked at his sister incredulously. "Have you been drinking? Which you better not be because you are driving."

"Pshaw," Harry said after taking a drink. "That's not until later bonehead!"

John rolled his eyes and drank his soda as Harry approached him. She was only a couple of inches taller than him but her unruly red hair made her look taller.

"Listen, John," she placed a hand on his shoulder. "I know we've had our differences and arguments, but, I want you to know that I really do love you, because you are my little brother, and you might be all I have in the future."

John grunted as Harry took him in a bear hug. He was so unsure of himself that he couldn't respond. When she pulled back, Harry's face was streaked with tears.

"Oh God, you are being serious." John whispered as he wiped his sisters tears. "What is going on, Harry?"

"I-I can't tell you until I know it's serious." She wiped her nose on her sleeve.

"A boy, what's so wrong about being serious with a boy?"

"When that boy is a girl."

John gaped at his sister.

"You hate me don't you?"

"I-...no of course not," John shuffled his feet nervously. "I'm just surprised. I had no idea."

"Yeah, well, it's not something I advertise. People aren't so open-minded at the school, you know?"

John knew, as he thought of Sherlock.

"And you are afraid of how mom will react?" He went on.

She nodded and her hair bounced with her.

He took a drink and hummed. "I think she'll be fine. She's pretty open-minded."

"Dad wasn't."

"Dad was military...wait you told dad?"

"No, but his cousin came out and Dad disowned him."

"Oh." John frowned. "How did mom take that news?"

"With a grain of salt I guess," Harry shrugged. "She was so calm and mild-mannered then."

Harry stood after a long silence and grabbed her keys and purse. "We should get going. And John?"

"Yeah?" He said as Harry hugged him again.

"Thank you!"

"Of course."

"John," Mary said breathlessly as she stepped closer to him. "It's so beautiful."

They had been watching fireworks from a park close to the restaurant Harry had her own date that she met at the same restaurant that John and Mary ate. They all walked to the park, bundled up and holding their hands out to the bonfire.

"I'm glad you like it Mary." He put his arm around her and she snuggled into him. They chatted for a few more minutes, then John leaned forward.

"May I?" He smiled and he could see her eyes twinkling.

"Yes," she answered and he closed the distance between them. Her lips were soft and she smelled of cinnamon. He let his tongue roam over her lips and she paused, but then opened her mouth just enough to let him in. John kept waiting for the fireworks. Waiting for that feeling one is supposed to get when they finally kiss the girl of their dreams. He gently pulled away when it never came.

He opened his eyes and saw that Mary still had hers closed and she sighed. He clenched his teeth and stifled a scream. Six years he had waited for the fireworks, six years he had been disappointed.

Mary smiled brightly up at John and he returned the smile as best he could.

"John, what's wrong? You are a sixteen year-old boy. You should have hit that!" Harry exclaimed after turning over the motor on her car.

He smirked at her, then sighed.

"The fireworks weren't there."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I dunno. I suppose I'm a romantic at heart. I want that feeling, that exhilaration you get when you kiss someone and you know it's right."

"Good god, boy! Are you a virgin?" Harry glanced over at him as he squirmed.

"Oh my God!" She grinned, then clapped her hand over her mouth.

"I've made out with tons of girls," John sighed.

"I'm sorry. I should be proud of you. Hell I am proud of you for not giving it up so easily. But a good-looking kid like you? You should be getting some action!"

"Thanks...I think."

"Are you going to see her again?"

"Yes, we made plans to go to the cinema. We'll see how that goes."

"Will you hand me a pen?" Sherlock said to John as he entered his bedroom a couple of weeks later. He was sitting in the window seat, his hands steepled under his chin.

John dug in his bag for a pen and tossed it to Sherlock who started twirling it between his fingers.

"What's going on?" John asked as he sat down on the bed. "You seemed nervous about something when you talked to me downstairs."

Sherlock was silent for a minute before he stood and grabbed a notebook from his desk, then sat next to John.

"How was your dates with Mary?" He asked still twirling the pen.

"Good. She's a nice girl. I like her."

Sherlock's blue-green eyes swept over John's face then met his eyes. John held his intense gaze, then turned away.

"What's with you?" John looked down at his hands. "You have been acting stranger than usual the past couple weeks."

"You think I'm strange?" Sherlock's voice was quiet.

"You're different from most kids. It's not a bad thing." John looked back up at the other boy. "We've had this conversation before...did something happen today?"

"You don't feel anything for Mary do you?"

"What-?"

"You don't feel that spark when you are with her. You don't try anything with her and she initiates all the kisses-"

"Sherlock? What the hell? Are you following us?"

"No, well, kind of. I-"

"I don't need this right now." John's voice came out in a low growl as he stood and grabbed his bag and started out of the room.

"Wait, please, John."

Sherlock's tone made John stop and turn. Sherlock was standing right behind him. He had a pleading looking on his face that John had never seen before. John opened his mouth to say something but Sherlock interrupted.

"I just want you to be happy."

"I am happy. I don't understand, what is going on, Sherlock?"

"Are you happy when you're with me?"

"Yes," John drew in a breath to calm his frustration. "Sherlock, you're not usually this ambiguous with me. Please, just tell me what is going on in that crazy head of yours."

Sherlock blinked at him, then opened his mouth like he was going to say something, then stopped. John's eyes glanced at his perfectly shaped lips, which were suddenly on his own. He was so shocked, he couldn't move. Sherlock stepped away.

"I'm sorry," when John didn't move, Sherlock put his hand on each side of John's face.

"No, I'm not."

Then leaned in and kissed John again.

The only thing that John knew in that moment was that it felt right and the spark that he had waited six years for, finally came crashing down on him like a lightning bolt.


	3. Here The Frailest Leaves of Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I should be working on my novel." She whispered to herself.
> 
> "Nope, you are going to write this before you implode." Herself crossed her arms like an impudent child. 
> 
> "Fine!" She cried and stamped her feet and proceeded to write the next chapter of her very fluffy Teen!Lock fan-fic.

The conflict in John's head made him dizzy as he grabbed at Sherlock's arm. He deepened the kiss and Sherlock responded in kind as he ran his hand through the others hair. John moaned his approval.

Something clicked in John's mind and he opened his eyes and stepped away. Sherlock's face was full of confusion, as John was sure his was as well. John ghosted his fingers along his lips as he tried to form some sort of sentence. 

“I-I should go...” He bent and grabbed his bag and was out the door before Sherlock could grab him. 

“John!” Sherlock called.

John was at the top of the stairs as he stopped in his tracks. 

“I just need some time. I'll be back.” He said before he descended the stairs, leaving a confused Sherlock standing in the hallway, the taste of John on his lips. 

 

“John?” Sophia stuck her head out of John's bedroom window and spotted him as she looked to her right. Most of the snow had melted off the roof, and it was warm enough for whatever moisture on the roof to not freeze.

“Mom?” He responded from his perch on the roof top. “You're home early.” 

“Yes well,” She started as she climbed through the window with a grunt. John covered his mouth to stifle the giggle that threatened to escape. “Our meeting was cut short. The station manager's wife was going into labor, and the new one is in transit. We won't meet them until tomorrow. The manager, not the baby.”

Sophia gestured and settled next to John as best she could with her skirt and stockinged feet. John gave her a half smile. 

“But you don't want to hear about that. You don't come out here unless you are contemplating something. So, we can sit here in silent contemplation, or we can use this time to discuss life, universe and everything.” 

“Forty-two.” John grunted. 

“See, I was listening when your father would read you those books.” She smiled over at him and started smoothing his hair down. “How is school?” 

“It's fine.” 

“And how is your tutoring and mentoring going?” 

“It's fine.” 

“Mm-hmm.” Sophia rested her hand on the back of his neck as he shivered with the memory of his kiss with Sherlock. “Shall we go inside?”

“No, why are you cold?” He looked up at her and she shook her head. 

“And how is Mary?” Sophia asked as she turned her head up to the clear starry night. 

“She's fine.” John answered and chewed on his thumb.

“Are you getting along with Sherlock?” 

“Is this twenty questions?” John brought his knees up to his chin.

Sophia smiled to herself as she watched her son fidget in the corner of her eye. She knew she had hit a nerve somewhere. If she stayed quiet long enough, John would say something. 

In the meantime, Harry had woke to voices, but her mind couldn't wrap around where they were coming from. She finally pushed her curtain aside and saw Sophia and John sitting just feet away from her window. Harry started to open her window, but stopped when she heard what John was talking about. 

“Have you ever done something with one person, and it just didn't feel right, but with a whole other person, that you did not completely expect to do that thing with, it was all right and felt perfect and yet it shouldn't feel that right?” 

Sophia eyed her son. “Are we talking sex here?” 

“No, mom, just because I'm fifteen, doesn't mean everything is about sex with me.” Harry heard the exasperation in her brothers voice and bit her lip to suppress a giggle. 

“Well, they sure were when I was fifteen.” 

“Mom, please, no.”

“I'm sorry, John.” Sophia rubbed her son's back. “So something happened with let's say Mary. Let's say hypothetically you kissed her. And you were expecting the rainbows and fireworks and all the sparks, right?” 

“Yeah, something like that.” John said. 

“And it never happened, but you tried again because you like her and enjoy her company. But it still didn't happen, hypothetically.” Sophia added. 

John glanced up at his mother. He wondered sometimes if she was a mind reader. 

“Lets see, so say you were with her friend Emile, studying, and you have been harbouring feelings for her secretly, but because you asked Mary first, you didn't want to try anything with Emile. But, you did, hypothetically of course, and all the sparks and rainbows and such were there. Am I right, hypothetically, so far, of course?” 

“Yes, hypothetically.” 

“Well, I would talk to Mary, and see how she felt. Contrary to popular belief, girls aren't as scary as you think we are. And from what I've seen from her, she seems like a very nice girl.” 

“What about Sher-” John coughed and cleared his throat. “What do I do about Emile?” 

“Talk to her as well,” Sophia paused. “Wait, what did you start to say before?” 

'Oh my God! He almost said Sherlock!' Harry thought, still listening. 

John shook his head, wide-eyed. 

Sophia, situated herself so she could face her son. 

“John, you can be honest with me.” 

John searched his mothers pretty face. He knew she spoke the truth. It was almost one of her faults, being so open and honest with her children. 

John drew in a deep breath. “I don't know what happened. Tonight, Sherlock and I were talking about Mary, and-” His eyes traveled to some point past his mother as his fingers ghosted along his lips where Sherlock had kissed them. He couldn't be quite sure, but he thought he still tasted him there. 

“You felt the firework and sparks with Sherlock, didn't you?” 

John slowly nodded his head. 

Harry pumped her fist and started dancing in her room. Then she let out a loud exclamation. Freezing, she placed both hands over her mouth. 

Sophia and John both turned in the direction of her window and furrowed their brows at it. When no other noises came from that direction, Sophia turned back to her son. 

“First of all, talk to Mary,” She shook her head and interrupted herself. “No, no. First and foremost, I don't care if it's Sherlock, or Emile or the Pope for crying out loud, I will love you just as much as if you loved Mary, or Lisa or Tony. I will worry if you start confessing your love to Mr. Holmes or Amanda, but-”

“Mom!” 

“Sorry. But seriously, you need to talk to Sherlock, make sure he feels the same-” 

“Er, he initiated the kiss.” 

“Okay, you two still need to talk. And you need to talk to Mary.” 

“Thank you mum.” John said as she enveloped him in a hug.

“Of course, sweetie. Just be careful. I know not a lot of people are as open minded as I am. That's why you and Sherlock need to sit and find out where you both stand and to what end you want your relationship to go.” 

“I love you, mum.”

 

“Good afternoon, Mr. Holmes.” John said as he peeked into the office. 

“Ah, good John, I'm glad you are here. I have a meeting in a half an hour, so just enough time to look and go over your test scores if you like.” William Holmes stood and gestured to the chair on the other side of his desk. 

John stayed focused on the task at hand, but he couldn't help but wonder what William would think of his youngest son falling for another boy. They never really discussed morals; William would touch on headlines and new books.

“Is everything alright, John?” William asked. “You seem a bit nervous and a bit fidgety.” 

“I'm sorry. Sherlock wasn't in class today and I am worried about him.” John hadn't realized he was chewing on his thumb and shaking his leg. 

The elder man raised an eye brow at John. 

“Your concern is warranted, John.” The man said as he gathered paper work and started filing it into his briefcase. “He was not looking well this morning. Very distressed about something and more pale than usual. I told him to take the day off and rest. From what I've heard from Amanda and the housekeepers he's been up in his room listening to Mendelssohn and Bach. I would say it was a broken heart, but he never mentions girls. Do you know of anything, John.” 

“Um, no, I don't recall anything.” John ran his hand through his hair. 

William hummed as he checked his planner, then folded it and placed it in his briefcase. 

“I do apologize for the briefness of this meeting. However, I think your mother will be pleased with your scores. I know I am and you should be as well.” 

“Thank you, I am.” John smiled. “And no worries about this meeting. I know we break for Holiday next week. But has mum talked to you about the next quarter?”

“Yes, and I would be more than happy to tutor you again.” 

“Thank you. I have the feeling this next session is going to be harder than this last.” John stood and threw his bag over his shoulder. “Happy Christmas, Mr. Holmes.” 

“Thank you, same to you. Say, what are you guys doing for your Christmas?”

“The usual open presents stuff our faces with ham. Although, mum has taken to going to the cinema, so we'll probably do that.” 

“Well, would you like to spend Christmas with us? I will ask your mother formally of course, but I would like your input.” 

“I would like that, yes.” John was genuinely surprised at the request. “Thank you!” 

They said their goodbyes for the evening, and John ran up the stairs to and knocked on the door to Sherlock's room. 

“Go away.” Resounded from inside.

“Sherlock, it's John,” the door was locked when he tried it, and there was no response from inside. “Sherlock, I need to talk to you, please?” 

The door was opened on please and John was taken aback at what he saw in front of him. Sherlock's hair was more unruly than ever, and he had just a t-shirt and pajama bottoms on.

“I came to make sure you were okay. You weren't in class today.” John waited for Sherlock to invite him in. 

“Yeah, so?” Sherlock's complacent answer drew a look of genuine concern from John, which secretly excited Sherlock. 

“Are you alright, and may I come in?”

“S'pose.” Sherlock stepped away from the door and John walked in. 

As soon as the door was closed, John stepped forward and placed both hands on Sherlock's face and kissed him a little harder than he meant to. Sherlock smiled into the kiss and slid John's bag off his shoulder. Then placed his hands on John's hips, pulling him closer and it was John's turn to smile into the kiss. One of John's hands slid up into Sherlock's impossible dark curls. They were soft, but then John wasn't sure what else he was expecting.

Sherlock gently curled his fingers around John's upper arms and pushed him back a step. John made a noise in protest.

“Wait, my kiss yesterday didn't scare you off?” 

John blinked at the other boy. It was like he pushed a pause button in his mind and they were discussing the scene they just saw on screen. 

“Do we have to discuss it now? I was rather enjoying myself.” 

“But I want to know why?”

“You want to know why I'm enjoying myself?”

Sherlock shook his head and gestured with one hand between them, like he was cleaning a whiteboard. 

“Circular conversation, going no where.” He placed his hand on his head and John furrowed his brow at the other.

“My kiss yesterday didn't scare you?” Sherlock started over.

“At first, but you did it so fast I wasn't sure how to react.” 

“Tell me everything that went through your head when I kissed you.” 

“Surely you'd rather-” John started to move forward, but Sherlock stopped him with a hand on his chest and the pleading look in his eyes.

“Please, John?”

“Yeah, okay.” John swallowed and watched as Sherlock's grey-green eyes move down to his lips as he licked them. “I was shocked, at first. But then you stopped the kiss and I was confused.”

“Confused at the fact that I stopped the kiss, or confused at why I kissed you? Or confused at being shocked?” Sherlock still had his intense gaze locked on John's.

“Yes to everything.” John said, probably a little too quickly, but he didn't care. 

“No it can't be all of that all at once-” He shook his head, but John placed his hands gently on each side of his face. 

“Yes, yes it can be. That's why it's so mysterious. So wondrous. So beautiful. 'Here the frailest leaves of me and yet my strongest lasting, Here I shade and hide my thoughts, I myself do not expose them, And yet they expose me more than all my other poems.'” 

“It can't be that simple.” Sherlock's gaze snapped to John's again. “And why are you quoting Whitman to me?” 

John smirked. “Because it's the only way I can describe the way I am feeling, and felt at that moment.”

The other opened his mouth and started to say something, but John placed a finger there. “Do you want me to tell you that the sparks and butterflies and everything that comes with a first kiss, happened last night, with your kiss. Because that is exactly what happened. As to why I ran away, well, I was scared. I always thought the sparks and fireworks would come when a girl kissed me, not when I kissed another boy, let alone you.”

“What's wrong with me?” Sherlock's brow furrowed and John laughed. 

“The weight of the world in that one sentence, Sherlock.” 

“I-I …” Sherlock suddenly let go of John, but John held on, grabbing him by the upper arms. 

“Let's start with what's right with Sherlock.” John said before he lost him. 

“What?” 

“Close your eyes.” John said.

“But why?”

“You are going to have to trust me, and if you don't trust me, then we end this whole affair right here, right now.” 

Sherlock started to shake, and John was afraid for a moment that Sherlock really didn't trust him. 

Right before he closed them, John could swear he might have seen tears in those ever changing eyes. 

“What's right with Sherlock, part one.” John kissed each eye, and felt the slight dampness, and tasted the tears. He bit his lip and moved on. “Your eyes.” 

John went through the parts on Sherlock's face and the boy even smiled at a couple places. John made notes of that. 

“And now your mouth. Most specifically your lips, for now.” 

“For now?” Sherlock whispered. 

“Yes for now.” John only had one blow job in his life so far, so he really had no basis for comparison. But he suddenly imagined Sherlock's perfectly shaped lips around his-

He cleared his throat and adjusted himself. 

“Your lips are perfect for kissing.” John placed a kiss on them. “These are the things that are right about Sherlock.” 

John placed a finger under Sherlock's chin, and he opened his eyes. John let out a small gasp. 

“What's wrong?” 

“Absolutely nothing. Your eyes are amazing. Just a second ago, they were a dull gray-green. Now they are this brilliant, blue-green, hazel, I can't even describe.” 

“Yes, it's called heterochromia*. I looked it up, because I noticed that my eyes would change color-” 

John smirked and leaned into Sherlock. “Just shut up and kiss me.” 

When their lips connected again, Sherlock made a small noise of satisfaction, and John felt the butterflies flutter in his stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Heterochromia_iridum  
> **http://www.gutenberg.org/files/1322/1322-h/1322-h.htm#link2H_4_0044 


	4. Perfectly Addicted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock makes John promise forever, or at least until they are old and retired and keeping bees and playing clarinet in a jazz band.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I wish this fan-fiction would stop nagging at me. It slipped in and whispered cruel threats and sweet nothings in my ear until I finished. I was also reading over my previous chapters and noticed a discrepancy in ages; John is almost 16 and Sherlock is almost 15. So for a couple weeks they are the same age. I realize that this is not the case in the show, however, the way I have this planned out, their ages in the show weren't going to work. Welcome to the world of the Alternate Universe!
> 
> Great big thanks to those who have fave'd and commented and loved this fiction as much as I have.
> 
> If you have questions, comments, concerns, Benedict Cumberbatch in a red ribbon for me, please don't hesitate to share! I take criticism and Benedict well, if they are delivered properly.

Sherlock deepened the kiss as he moved closer to John. He ran his fingertips down the length of John's arm, and felt the other shiver at his touch. He reached between them and carefully wriggled his hand up underneath John's shirt. John started at the cold touch as the others hand ran across his chest. John's hand ventured up the back of Sherlock's shirt and when he pulled the other closer to him, he could feel Sherlock's erection against the crook of his leg. 

John pulled away as the gravity of the situation and what they were about to do struck him hard. 

Sherlock's eyes snapped open, but he didn't move. He saw the panic in John's eyes, and for the first time, was unsure about what to say; he had never been in this situation. 

His mind suddenly went into overdrive, analyzing the situation and all the why's and how's... he groaned and held his head.

“I...I'm sorry Sherlock,” John said. “I panicked and I didn't-”

“I know, I am panicking now. I don't know what to do, or how this happened or why it's happening, I don't know what I'm feeling right now.” Sherlock's words came out in a jumbled mess and John stepped toward him, reaching a hand out to touch his elbow. 

Sherlock drew in a sharp breath and looked at John, or right through John, he couldn't decide. 

John swallowed hard. “I'm going out on a limb here and say that neither one of us has ever done...this,” he gestured between them. “with another boy before. I'm also going to guess that both of us are virgins.”

Sherlock blinked and cocked his head at John. 

“Don't act like you're surprised. I don't get as much action as you think I do. I've only made out with a couple of girls, and I gotta be honest with you,” John paused and ran his hand through his hair. “Those make-out sessions don't compare to what we just did.” 

“I'm not supposed to have these urges. My body is only for transport.” Sherlock paced his room. His voice was so matter-of-fact that John thought he was reading from a manual.

“What? Who told you that? And what is that even supposed to mean?”

“I am supposed to focus on my studies and building my mind, not having these...urges, these feelings. I'm scared. I don't know what to feel.” Sherlock was talking so fast, John almost didn't catch what he said. He stopped pacing and grabbed John's forearms. “Dammit, John, I'm so confused! Help me not to be.” 

John furrowed his brow at Sherlock, forgetting that he was only fourteen. 

“I think you should decide how you feel about me,” John placed his hand on Sherlock's cheek. 

“I can...I want this with you,” Sherlock reached up and took John's hand and interlocked their fingers. He never noticed the difference in color; John's hands were much tanner and Sherlock's hands and fingers were graceful and long.

“I have concluded that I want to...I want you to...I want to...I want you.” Sherlock locked his gaze with John's. “And in observing you just now, I believe you have come to the same conclusion as I.” 

John licked his lips and stepped closer to the boy. “Yes, I have come to that conclusion. But we are going to have to help each other through this, I think.” He paused. “I like what we've been doing so far and I could probably just make-out all night.” John brought their hands to his lips, in more of a habit when he was thinking than anything else. “But you need to stop thinking and just start feeling.” 

Sherlock parted his lips to say something and decided against it. John smirked at him and cupped his face in both hands and placed a delicate kiss upon his lips. 

“How did that feel?” John asked, breathlessly.

Sherlock nodded and hummed his approval. John could still see the fear in his eyes and cocked his head and placed soft kissed along his jawline. He heard Sherlock inhale sharply and smiled to himself. He ran his hand through the dark curls and kissed him just beneath his ear. Sherlock wrapped his arms around John's waist and they crashed together with a grunt. 

“How are you feeling now, Sherlock?” 

The dark-haired boy gasped at John saying his name so softly in his ear. 

“G-good, it feels good. Can we just do this all night? And just hold each other?” 

John's libido and passion wasn't going to hold out all night, but if they just took things really slow...no, John knew his own body way to well, and he knew he was going to have to have some sort of release sometime during the night. He would just have to deal with it when the time came. 

“Yes,” John answered as he lightly ran his fingertips down Sherlock's back. He felt the other shiver and smiled. “Yes we can.” 

Sherlock hands were at John's face and his lips were on John's begging for entrance, fighting for dominance. John was too surprised to react at first, but when he finally let Sherlock in, his tongue was soft and not desperate, but delicate and hesitant. John wrapped his arms around Sherlock's slender waist and held on him like he was going to disappear. Sherlock's hands ran through John's sandy hair and he groaned. 

Sherlock parted from John with a grunt, leaving the other breathless when he realized that Sherlock was taking his shirt off. John walked over to the light switch and turned off the lights, leaving them bathed in the warm light of the garden below. John threw off his jumper and started un-tucking the shirt underneath, when he felt another pair of hands helping. He leaned forward and found Sherlock's mouth and kissed him. Sherlock responded as he opened his mouth and let John in. It took them longer than it should have to unbutton John's shirt and it ended up in a corner of the room. 

The dark-haired boy backed John into the bed as it hit the back of his knees. 

“Oh!” He let go of Sherlock as he caught himself as he fell on the soft duvet and comforter that Sherlock had on his bed. Sherlock straddled John's lap as he kissed him again. John could feel his own trousers getting tighter, and having Sherlock on his lap wasn't helping matters at all. In fact, he thought he could feel Sherlock's erection through his thin pajama pants. John placed his hands on Sherlock's chest and slowly lowered them until they were at the waist line of the pants. He adjusted his sitting position and his hand brushed against Sherlock's now completely stiff cock. 

John froze. 

“John, I-” Sherlock's voice was husky with passion as he looked down at him with his bright blue-green eyes. 

“I know, you just want to make-out. That was my fault-” 

“No, please I want you to-” Sherlock inhaled sharply again as he bit his lip. John groaned. That look was going to be the death of him. So were those lips. He bent and whispered into John's ear. “Touch me. Please.” 

John swallowed and closed his eyes as he tried to control his breathing. Sherlock was kissing and nibbling his ear and he almost couldn't contain himself. He laid a shaky hand on the others cock and he groaned and wriggled on John's lap. 

“Sherlock stop moving or we are going to have a situation to take care of,” 

But John didn't get all his words out. Sherlock was grinding against John's hand and his arms were wrapped around his neck. He kept repeating John's name and as soon as John wrapped his hand around the others cock and placed his other hand on his arse, Sherlock cried out. 

He kept a strong hold on John's neck so the dizziness wouldn't overwhelm him. Sherlock could see stars behind his eyes, but he was the most relaxed and warm he had ever been. The release was more amazing than he could have ever predicted. 

John grinned to himself. He couldn't be angry at Sherlock. They were both young and he knew neither one of them would be able to control their urges for very long. He rested his head against the other boys shoulder and sighed. He could hear the rapid beat of his heart. He wrapped his arms around Sherlock and felt the dampness on his back. His own erection was fading and starting to hurt. 

“Sherlock?” 

“Oh, god John,” Sherlock leaned back and looked at John. His eyes were a bright blue now and he was still shaking. “I'm sorry, I couldn't hold back. It was all too much.” 

“Please, don't apologize.” John placed a hand on Sherlock's cheek and rubbed the soft flesh with his thumb. “I figured one of us was going to...cum early. I need to take care of something. It's starting to hurt.” 

Sherlock bent again and kissed John softly and placed his hand on John's semi-erect cock. He grunted. 

“Are you okay?” Sherlock asked, his lips still on John's. 

John answered affirmatively and unbuttoned his trousers. Sherlock unzipped them and grabbed a little too hard in his eagerness to please. 

“Too hard, Sherlock, lighten your grip,” 

“Oh, sorry,” 

“Here, let me take my trousers off.” 

Sherlock stumbled off of John and grabbed the towel hanging on the back of his door. John grinned at him. 

“You look like a drunken monkey when you walk,” John chuckled as he folded his trousers and took his socks off. “Are you sure you are okay?” 

“Ah, yes, I am still overwhelmed,” Sherlock was stuttering and having trouble with his words. He completely stopped and stared at John. “I have too much serotonin and dopamine running through my system. You are a handsome boy.” 

John blinked, shook his head and chuckled at Sherlock. “Er...thanks,” he walked over to Sherlock. “No one says handsome anymore.” He pulled the other in for a slow kiss. 

“What do they say, because I think you are the hottest boy in class,” Sherlock talked around the kiss and John pulled him back over to the bed. 

“Why is the handsomest boy in class with me, and not with the hottest girl in class?” 

John pushed Sherlock onto the bed with a grunt, and crawled on top of him. As he did this he kissed various parts of Sherlock's body; his stomach, which was soft and there was already a fine dusting of dark hair leading down into his pants. His ribs, which made him giggle, and his nipples, which he shivered at each one. Then his collar-bones, which at this point, John was straddling Sherlock and his erection was resting next to Sherlock's. 

“Because this handsome boy wants to spend time with the most brilliant boy in his class,” He kissed Sherlock as he grabbed the boy's hand and rested it on his ass. He pressed his hips gently into Sherlock's and they both groaned. John moved slowly, kissing Sherlock languidly. John could feel Sherlock through his thin underpants and rubbed his cock against him. He responded by lifting his hips and finding their rhythm. Sherlock reached between them and before John had time to react, his hand was inside John's pants, wrapped around his cock. John held his breath and stilled as Sherlock kissed his cheeks and jaw.

“Is something wrong?” He whispered in his ear. 

John clenched his jaw. He didn't want this to be over so quickly, but he knew if either of them moved, he would be done. 

“No, please don't move,” John's words came out in a jumble and Sherlock moved to hear what he said. 

“Oh god I’m going to cum,” John couldn't help himself as he cried out and started grinding against Sherlock's hand. He buried his face in Sherlock's shoulder as he moaned and thrust one last time into Sherlock's hand. He felt all the blood in his body pool in his midsection, then rush to the other parts of his body as he came in the other boys hand. He didn't realize he was biting Sherlock until he let out a long moan and a shudder. 

Sherlock kissed John's ear and shoulder and his light as a feather touch on the sandy-haired boys back, made him shiver. 

John finally pushed himself up to face Sherlock. He had the most peaceful look on his face. It wasn't furrowed, or judging, or mocking. John blinked and smiled at him as he brushed his unruly hair out of his eyes. 

“What? Why are you smiling like that?” 

“Shh...” John kissed the other. “Don't talk. You'll ruin the moment.” 

“But I-” 

John kissed him again, this time a little harder than expected and their teeth clashed and they giggled. 

“Let's get cleaned up and sorted before we get too comfortable, if I can move.” John grunted as he pushed himself off of Sherlock. He stood and stretched, as some of his joints popped. 

Sherlock watched John's body move gracefully as all the muscles and bones moved together. John reached a hand out and Sherlock grabbed it and let John lift him off the bed. 

 

An hour later, Sherlock was laying in John's arms, snuggled under the duvet. Both boys cleaned and still glowing from the make-out session. 

“I don't want this to end,” Sherlock's voice was heavy and full of sleep.

“Mmm...me neither,” John was playing with the damp curls of Sherlock's hair. “This is best I've felt in a long time.” 

“My mind is so clear. It's not racing a million miles an hour, trying to think of the next task or the next puzzle.” Sherlock sighed, then lifted his head so he could face John. “Promise me forever? Promise me that where ever you are, what ever you are doing, that you will think of me? Promise that whatever happens, if...if we can't love each other forever, that we can at least be bonded in friendship?” 

John's lips parted. He had so much to say. He knew they were young and some of those promises he wouldn't be able to keep. But love? The butterflies in John's stomach were fluttering overtime. 

“I can't promise forever, but I will promise to think about you. You've made a very large impression in my life, I don't think I will forget about you.” 

“Then promise that we will be bonded in friendship, even when we are old and gray and retired and I'm beekeeping and you are playing your clarinet in a jazz band?” 

John smiled wide and it lit up his face. 

“That I can promise. But why beekeeping? And why a jazz band?” 

Sherlock laid his head back down on John's chest. “I like bees. They are fascinating to me. You just seem like the jazz type.” 

“Hmm...” was all John said before he drifted off to sleep.


	5. Where I Begin and You End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock surprises John for his birthday and Henry talks to Sherlock about the family dynamic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is inspired by a Radiohead song of the same title. 
> 
> This fiction won't stop rolling around in my head and I have decided not to fight it. I will keep working on it until I get stuck. 
> 
> I may have nailed down a timeline for this at last. I know in previous chapters I had mentioned that it was set in 1993, but that would make our good detective and his companion older than what they really are when they first meet, which I'm not sure what that is on the show. So my John and Sherlock are going to be 28 and 26 when they meet at Barts, again, for the first time. I have pretty much everything planned out, even what I want to have happen with Mary and Anthea (she will be a pleasant surprise for you!) 
> 
> Another quick note, I did some surface research into the U.K. school system; keep in mind I am an American writing fan-fiction that takes place in the U.K. so anything that is wrong, is my own fault for not diving deeper in to my research.

 

 

 

Six in the morning on that Monday was the first day of the school holiday. It was also John's birthday. As much as he wanted to spend the night at Sherlock's house, he knew his mother would want him to spend the day with her. Especially since her 'little boy was growing up so fast'. John was sleeping so hard, he didn't hear Sherlock sneaking into his room.

“John,” he whispered as he bent over the boys bed. He didn't stir and Sherlock bent closer to his ear.

“John.” That time he stirred, but didn't wake. Finally, Sherlock rested a hand on John's shoulder, said his name a little louder and shook him.

“No! Let go of him!” John woke up yelling. Sherlock panicked and placed his hand over John's mouth. He could only look at the dark-haired boy with wide-eyes.

“What are you doing here?” He asked behind Sherlock's hand. A door opened down the hall and John pushed Sherlock onto the floor and he grunted. “Get under the bed. My mom is coming! Hurry!”

Sherlock scooted into a small space and froze as soon as Sophie opened the door.

“John?” Her voice was gravely with sleep as she poked her head in. Her blond curls were sticking out all over her head as she held her blue dressing gown close to her. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, mum,” John rubbed his eyes. “Just a bad dream. I'm sorry I woke you.”

“Oh John,” Sophie opened the door and walked in. John panicked for a second, thinking that Sherlock was going to be seen. However, his mother sat on his bed without saying a word. She smiled at him as she cupped his cheek and he leaned into her warm hand. “Don't ever be sorry that you woke me. I always want to be here when have bad dreams. I know I can't, but as long as you are under this roof with me, I will always be here for you.”

John wrapped his arms around her to hide the tears that were forming.

“Thank you mum,” he tried to keep his voice even. “I am here for at least two more years y'know.”

“I know,” Sophie said as John let go of her. She kept an arm around him. “But I remember sixteen years ago when I held this tiny helpless little human being in my hands-”

“Mom, please,” John looked away from her as he blushed.

“Well, happy birthday, John,” she brushed his hair out of his face. “I am surprised that you didn't stay the night at Sherlock's. How is he? You and him getting along?”

John smiled and drew in a deep breath as he thought about the past couple evenings he had spent with Sherlock. It was a feeling he had never known before and he didn't think he could feel that way, especially with another boy.

'More than you know, mum.' He thought to himself.

“Are you two...you know...having sex?” Sophie lowered her voice, thinking somehow that would lessen the impact of her question.

“Oh god, no mother,” he blushed even harder. She chuckled at him. “I am still a virgin.”

John watched as several emotions crossed his mothers face.

“I am proud of you, son,” she bit her lip. “A good looking young man like you and you haven't had sex yet?”

“Oh god,” John rolled his eyes. “I have done almost everything except have sex with another person. Almost everything.”

“I'm sorry, it's none of my business. I am glad you've found someone that makes you happy.”

“Thank you,” John smiled up at her as she stood.

“Well, I'm not going to be able to fall back asleep,” she sniffed and ran her hand through her hair. “Do you want your birthday breakfast this early?”

“Yeah, I don't mind,”

Sophie kissed her son on the top of his head. She ruffled his hair and left the room.

 

“I thought she was never going to leave,” Sherlock said as he scooted out from under the bed and stood and brushed himself off. He was wearing a Radiohead t-shirt that was torn at the collar and black jeans with a black pea-coat over all of it. John looked at him with a mix of confusion and admiration and surprise.

“What?” He gestured with this arms wide.

“I-I've never seen you in anything other than dress shirts and slacks and your pyjamas,” John stood and grabbed Sherlock by the collar of his coat and pulled him close. “I like this.”

“Don't forget you've seen me almost naked as well,” Sherlock's words were cut short by Sophie.

“Well, well,” she said as she leaned against the door frame. “How long have you been here, Sherlock?”

“I snuck in a few minutes ago, ma'am,” Sherlock was looking at his boots as he spoke and John could see he was shaking. He had never seen him so nervous before. “I'm sorry I just wanted to tell John to have a happy birthday because I wasn't sure I was going to see him today and I kind of missed him and-”

“Sherlock,” Sophie placed a hand on his shoulder. “It's quite alright. You're not in trouble. I can't count how many times I had a boy sneak into my room. Do you want to stay for breakfast?”

“I don't want to impose, I should go,” Sherlock started toward the window, but Sophie had a hold of his sleeve.

“Sherlock, please stay, you are welcome here,” she smiled at him and his expression relaxed.

“O-Okay, thank you Ms. Watson,”

“Call me Sophie, please,”

“Thank you, Sophie.” Sherlock glanced up at her and gave her a nervous smile.

“John I came back up because I forgot to tell you that you have a package from your grandmama and a letter from the British Services.”

“The Services?” Sherlock furrowed his brow at John.

“Yes, ah, thank you mum,” it was John's turn to smile nervously at Sherlock. “We will be down in a minute.”

Sophie nodded and turned to leave. When she got to the door she paused and turned.

“Nice shirt, by the way,” she said as she pointed at Sherlock. “That's a great band.”

“When were you going to tell me you applied to the Army?” Sherlock asked in a loud whisper as soon as Sophie left.

John was taken aback. “I applied before I met you. It was my only option since I didn't have many friends here.”

“That means you are leaving me in two years?”

“I- Sherlock, that's not fair. We don't know where we are going to be in two years.”

“You don't think you will still be with me in two years?”

John blinked at Sherlock.

“Sherlock, we are still very young, we have our whole lives ahead of us,” he cupped Sherlock's face and rubbed his cheek with his thumb. “I do hope that we are together in two years, at least really good friends. But a lot can happen in two years. Let's just go with what we have right now.”

John pulled Sherlock in for a kiss. Sherlock didn't respond at first and John wrapped his arm around the others waist, pulling him close. Sherlock's body responded and warm tingles spread through his body. He gave into the kiss, letting John in as he placed his hands on either side of John's face. Sherlock could have kissed John all day; he never wanted to know how anyone else kissed. His kisses excited him every time. He blew it off as teenaged hormones; which he was pretty positive that was about thirty-four percent of his reaction to John. He also knew that most of it was just his brain, the way he was calm and not thinking at light speed. John calmed him, John was a rock, and at fourteen, he knew that was something to hold on to. Sherlock already knew how John moved, what he smelled like in the mornings, what direction his hair swirled after he showered. He didn't want to know anyone else; he didn't want John to know anyone but him.

“I'm going to get my pajama bottoms on,” John explained when they pulled apart to breath.

“You're going to need help with something as well,” Sherlock pointed at the tent in John's pants and John blushed.

“We don't have time,” he couldn't make eye contact with Sherlock. “I'll just use the bathroom and-”

“John, why won't you look at me?” Sherlock grabbed his chin a little harder than he meant to and John winced. Sherlock loosened his grip. “Sorry, I got a little over excited.”

“No, you are right, I should be able to look at you when talking about these things, especially after this past weekend,” Sherlock watched as John's face took on a dream-like expression and smiled at him. John's hands had unconsciously rested on Sherlock's hips and his fingers were fiddling with his belt and belt loops. Sherlock however wasted no time and reached down John's pants and wrapped his slender fingers around the boys cock.

“Sher-...Sherlock!” John's hand flew up to his mouth to cover his outburst. “S-stop...my sister...nnggg...”

John's knees started to shake and he had to hold onto Sherlock's forearms to stay standing. He grabbed Sherlock's hand and stilled him.

“Don't you want me to-” Sherlock whispered into John's ear. John put a finger up to the others mouth to stop him from finishing his sentence. He took a couple deep breaths before speaking.

“I...lemme pull the door to,” he walked over to the door and just as he was going to push it shut, Sherlock beat him to it. He turned John around and pulled down his pants and knelt in front of John, licking at the pre-cum that had formed.

John grabbed his curls to stop him.

“Sherlock!” He cried in his loudest whisper. “What are you doing?”

“I was hoping to give you a birthday present,” Sherlock blinked up at him with his bright blue-green eyes. John rubbed his forehead trying to find fault in the plan. The only fault was his mother walking in on them, oh, and the fact that Sherlock had never given head before.

“A birth-...oh dear lord, Sherlock,” John smirked at the whole idea of birthday head.

“Not good?” Sherlock asked, looking genuinely hurt.

“Oh, it's good, but do you know what you are getting into?”

“I know the biology behind it, yes and-”

“But are you prepared for, you know, the ending?”

“Well, yes,” Sherlock said it so matter-of-factually and combined with the serious look on his face, John couldn't say no.

“Okay, I just hope I'm ready,” John commented as he ran his hand through Sherlock's soft curls. “I'm not going to be long, and I will tell you when I'm about to-...you know.”

Sherlock smirked and opened his mouth and just took the head in. He sucked and licked at it, and John was reduced to a sputtering mess; one hand in Sherlock's curls and the other gripping the door frame so he wouldn't fall over. Sherlock not quite sure what to do with his hands rested them on John's thighs. He took more of John in his mouth and John tightened his grip in Sherlock's hair. It took all of his self control not to push the other onto his cock.

If John was going to put this one experience into one word, it would have been spectacular. But he wasn't thinking about that. He was thinking about Sherlock's warm mouth around his cock, something he had thought about since the first time they had kissed. He stole a look down at the other, and completely lost himself. They way those perfect lips looked, and the way he felt in the warm mouth, sent John over the edge and Sherlock sucked every last drop out of him.

The next sensation started John out of his reverie. Sherlock was now standing in front of him, kissing his neck.

“You were supposed to tell when you were going to cum,” Sherlock's voice rippled up and down John's spine the last vestiges of Sherlock's puberty taking over his voice. He had heard that deep voice only once before and it made John cum and laugh all at the same time; his voice broke at the end of the sentence and they both ended up in a giggle fit, holding each other in the middle of Sherlock's bed.

John smiled at the memory.

“John?”

He opened his eyes and was greeted with Sherlock's eyes which were now a shade of blue John had never seen before.

“Sherlock,” John said breathlessly and threw his arms around the other. He caught Sherlock's lips in a passion filled kiss, forgetting about what had just happened until he tasted the salt on his tongue and pulled away.

“You should brush your teeth.” John said as he wiped his mouth.

Sherlock frowned at him.

“Was it not good?”

The question took John by surprise.

“Of course it was good. It was better than good. I-I don't have words to describe-”

A knock on the door at his back interrupted him and he swooped his hand up to his mouth to cover his exclamation.

“John,” Sophie called through the door. “Everything okay in there?”

“I bet they're shagging like goats in there!” John heard Henry taunting and his mother shushed her. He felt all of the blood rush to his head as the temperature in the room seemed to rise.

Sherlock's expression turned to confusion as he opened his mouth to say something. John muffled it with his hand and shook his hand.

“We are good in here,” John answered. “Just talking.”

“Yeah right!” Henry called. John rolled his eyes.

“Okay, well, I was just wondering if Sherlock wanted tea or coffee with breakfast?”

“Umm...coffee two sugars please,” Sherlock answered after John took his hand off his mouth.

“Okay, ten minutes until breakfast is done.”

John heard his mother's bare feet retreat down the hall and paused, waiting for his sisters feet to retreat as well. He heard her sigh, then finally heard the soft pitter patter of her feet.

John exhaled loudly.

“There is some mouthwash in the bathroom. I will find something to wear and I'll be out in a minute.” John explained as he opened the bedroom door.

Sherlock licked his lips and frowned at John, then walked to the bathroom.

 

**# # #**

 

 

“So Sherlock,” Sophie started as she tore her toast in two. “Any big plans after Secondary?”

“After I take the GSCE I was thinking of going to Cambridge or Oxford,” Sherlock answered as he sipped his coffee. He was never big on coffee, but for some reason this was really good.

“That's pretty impressive. Do you have something in mind you wanted to study?”

“I was thinking of going into law,” Sherlock said as he poked his fork into a sausage.

“Isn't your father a barrister?” Henry asked.

“Was... then a law professor, now tutoring and offering his services where he can,” Sherlock avoided eye contact with everyone in the room as he pushed his breakfast around his plate. John could feel the tension streaming from him.

“Ah, mom, I really should talk to Mary today, and then you can have the whole afternoon with me,” John said averting the attention away from Sherlock.

“That's fine,” Sophie answered, as she held her tea in her hands. “After this I'm gonna clean up, take a nap and start laundry. I'm not going to be done with everything till after two, so take your time.”

“Oh, ma'am,” Sherlock started.

“Sophie, please,” she smiled as she interrupted him. “Call me Sophie.”

“Yes, sorry. I don't know if my father or John talked to you about spending Christmas at our place, but he has invited everyone, including you, Henrietta if you would like to join?”

John closed his eyes tightly, waiting for the barrage of bad words and curses that the name Henrietta usually brought down on the person who calls her by that name.

“Thank you, Sherlock, I appreciate the invitation, but I was hoping to spend the day with Bertie,” Henry responded with not a touch of anger or sarcasm in her voice. John and Sophie were looking at her, mouths agape.

“You're welcome,” Sherlock nodded then wiped his mouth with his napkin and started to stand. “I should go-”

“No, please stay Sherlock,” John had grabbed his wrist and Sophie vocalized what he was thinking. They glanced at each other and Henry threw them both a confused look.

“Okay,” he said slowly as he sat down again.

“We didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable, Sherlock,” Sophie explained. “I was just thinking that it's very early if you want to hang around, you're more than welcome to stay.”

“Thank you. I'd like that.” Sherlock smiled at Sophie and John.

Henry smirked and shook her head.

 

**# # #**

 

Twenty minutes later, Sophie was shooing John out of the kitchen insisting that Henry was going to help clean up and that he should open his package from his gramama. John sighed and walked out to the sitting room to grab the package.

“You are very mature for a fourteen year old boy,” Henry stopped Sherlock as he was taking his plate into the kitchen.

“I am going to be fifteen in two weeks,” Sherlock stated.

“Okay, I need you to understand that John comes from a long line of very hardened men; most if not all of them were in the Military Services. Because he doesn't have his father here and no older brother, I have to be the one to warn you not to break his heart, or pressure him into something he doesn't want to do. John can be sensitive and he can express himself, but if you corner him he will lash out.”

Sherlock looked at her with furrowed brow.

“Sentiment can be deadly.” Henry patted his upper arm and smiled and took his plate as she walked into the kitchen.

“Everything okay?” John asked as he entered the dining room, a cream colored jumper thrown over his arm.

“Ah yes,” Sherlock linked his arm in John's and led him out of the dining room to the stairs and promptly kissed John. He smiled and hummed against the kiss, but gently pushed Sherlock off.

“Um...sister and mum in other room,” he said as he gestured toward the dining room.

Sherlock nodded and licked his lips and let go of John who grabbed onto his wrist and they ran upstairs.

As soon as his bedroom door was closed, John grabbed Sherlock by his t-shirt and pulled him into a desperate tooth and lip smashing kiss. They parted in giggles.

“Sorry, that kinda hurt,” John touched his lip to make sure he wasn't bleeding and looked at Sherlock. He was smiling and licking at a bleeding lip. “Oh god, I'm sorry.”

He started to look for something to help Sherlock with his lip, but the boy stopped him and kissed John. It was much more gentler than John's, and they both smiled against each others lips. John could taste a hint of iron in the kiss, but was soon distracted by Sherlock's tongue running along his lips. John parted and soon found himself in Sherlock's embrace. He placed one hand on the nape of Sherlock's neck and the other on his waist, pulling him closer, feeling just how much Sherlock was enjoying their kiss.

 

**# # #**

 

An hour later, John was showered and dressed and him and Sherlock were on their way to Mary's house, courtesy of Henry.

“The jumper looks good on you,” Sherlock said after John checked himself in the side mirror for the forth time.

“Yes, and besides, it's just Mary you're seeing right?” Henry winked and smirked at John.

“I just...we are going to her house,” John answered. “I want to look nice.”

“Isn't it going to be awkward with Sherlock with you, being he's the one that, you know...” Henry let the question hang in the air and Sherlock furrowed his brow at her.

“Henry, we aren't sleeping with each other,” John was quick to correct himself before Sherlock could say anything. “Okay, technically we are sleeping together, and other things, but we are still virgins.”

“Well, you two have more self-control than I do,” Henry said.

“And it's not going to be awkward because Sherlock is her friend as well.”

“If she's a smart girl, and I think she is, she will figure out you two were after each other a long time ago.”

“We weren't after each other-”

Henry snorted.

“Are you kidding me? The way you two act when you think no one is watching is ridiculous.”

“How do you mean?” Sherlock had scooted forward in the backseat and his head was between Henry's and John's. Henry glanced up at him in the rear view.

“You two sit very close to each other, I see you in the library playing footsie under the tables. I see you at lunch sitting with Mary and another girl and you two are always side by side never touching anyone else-”

“Are you spying on us?” John asked, his voice was raised.

“No, but you know our schedules cross paths a lot.” She turned and winked at John. “Besides, I have to look after my baby brother!”

Henry reached over and ruffled John's hair and tickled under Sherlock's chin.

Sherlock gave a small smile as John threw curses and checked himself in the mirror.

* * *

_"There's a gap in between_   
_There's a gap where we meet_   
_Where I end and you begin."_

**-Radiohead**

 

 

 

 


	6. Novocain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John find out how terrible people can be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I found this chapter almost complete on my laptop, and I said to myself, 'Self, you should really finish this chapter as you procrastinate everything else you need to do.' And that's exactly what I did. I will be going through the other chapters when I get a chance to adjust ages and dates. I think I finally got a grasp on how old I want them to be and what year it would be.
> 
> I really do appreciate all of your comments and faves on this. Teen perspective is hard to write from, especially being a woman writing from a teen boys perspective. If you have questions, comments and/or concerns, please, please do not hesitate to drop me a line or comment! I take criticism well, if it is delivered well!
> 
> *There are some words in this chapter that might be triggering. Hate is a hard thing to write.

“John!” Mary beamed when she opened her front door. Sherlock came running up behind John on the step and gave a small wave. “ And Sherlock. What are you two doing here?”

“Harry said she would be back in an hour and a half or so to pick us up. Make sure your phone is on.” Sherlock said to John who nodded at him. 

“I need to talk to you about something,” John said as he clasped his hands behind his back and gave a nervous smile. 

“Oh, come on in,” Mary opened the door wider and gestured the two boys into the house. “And please leave your boots at the door. My mom hates a wet muddy floor.” 

“Of course,” John said as the two boys took off their boots. 

Sherlock's eyes traveled over the foyer, taking in every detail. There were small Victorian details, but everything else felt very strangely American, which piqued Sherlock's curiosity. Above the archway on the left side of the hallway that went into the living room, was a small camera and it was pointed at the door. At the end of the hall, another camera was mounted and pointed at the door. 

“Is there someplace quiet that we can talk?” 

“Yes,” Mary furrowed her brow as her dark blue eyes traveled from John to Sherlock and back to John. “Is everything alright?” 

“It will be if this conversation goes well,” John took her hand and kissed it and squeezed it as he gave her a warm smile. 

Mary put a hand to her chest and blushed. “A-All right, let's go to the sun room. Follow me.” 

Sherlock noticed Mary glancing up at the cameras and nodding once as they walked down the hall. They turned a corner and walked through a bright yellow kitchen with black and white tile. The sun room had a beautiful view of their back yard, which was now covered in a thick blanket of snow. There was also a distant view of downtown London if one squinted just right. A giant white fluffy cat and a chocolate point were shooed off one chair for Sherlock, and Mary and John sat on the love seat. Instead of sitting however, Sherlock took an interest in the Victorian details the room held. A painting, a gasogene on a corner shelf and a picture of a couple sitting on a valise looking happier than most Victorian age couples. Sherlock grabbed it carefully and studied it. 

“That is my great-great grandmother Irene Norton and her future husband Charles Adler. That is a very rare picture because most times a picture took a long time to capture and the party had to hold their poses for so long, that sometimes they couldn't. There is a serious picture somewhere, no one knows what happened to it.” Mary explained. 

“That explains their more lighthearted pose,” Sherlock held it at nose length and squinted. When the conversation was turned away from him, he placed the picture down where it had been and determined there had been a microphone of some sort in the frame. He kept his hands clasped behind his back, one ear listening to their conversation, the other listening to any other noises in the house as he looked around the room. 

“What was it that you wanted to tell me, John?” 

John drew in a deep breath. “Mary, you know that I like you, a lot in fact.” 

“Yes, I know.” She smiled at him, which he returned warmly. 

“I thought that you were going to be my high school love, and we would exchange, what ever it is that we exchange,” 

“Dull,” Sherlock muttered and they both looked at him. He was now in front of the fireplace, taking in the trinkets and determining which ones were cameras and microphones. 

“Anyway,” John swallowed audibly and ran his hand through his hair. “The past couple times that we've kissed I-” 

“You didn't feel...the fireworks did you?” Mary said and when he looked at her, her expression was one of part relief and part concern. 

“No, I didn't. I'm sorry,” John looked down at their hands which were still clasped between them. Mary's other hand tilted his chin up to look at her. 

“It's okay, John. For me it was thrilling, but I didn't have that intense feeling of-” 

“Butterflies in your stomach?” Sherlock offered as he held a small white porcelain stature of an angel that had a camera stashed inside. Sherlock shook it and heard the camera dislodge and start rattling around. 

“Sherlock, please put that down,” Mary asked. “It's very valuable and fragile and I know how your curiosity gets when you are bored.” 

John lifted a curious eyebrow at Mary then an exasperated look at Sherlock. 

“Yeah, butterflies,” Mary finished as Sherlock placed the delicate statue back on the mantle and smiled at both of them. “What is with you, Sherlock? You aren't your usual sarcastic self?” 

“I am in a rare good mood today.” 

“I guess,” Mary's eyes fell to his outfit. “And you are dressed differently. I've never seen you in anything outside of school uniforms and your lounge pants and tee shirts.” 

“That's because I never went anywhere except school, sometimes my fathers office and home.” Sherlock sat on the other side of John with a leg crossed over toward John and a long arm stretching across the back of the couch behind John. 

There was a subtle shift in John. Only Sherlock noticed at first, but it was enough to confirm John's feelings toward him. John had been sitting forward, but when Sherlock sat, he scooted back and shifted his head back so Sherlock's arm was touching the back of his neck. 

Now Mary had to lean forward to ask Sherlock a question. 

“Where do you go now?” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she knew the answer to her own question. She put both hands up to her mouth in an attempt to hide her surprise. “Oh my god! You two-...you two are-” 

The tension in the room was palpable as she left her statement unsaid. Neither John nor Sherlock could read her expression. 

“You felt the fireworks with Sherlock, didn't you?” Mary lowered her hands and with the big smile she had on her face, they both let out the breaths they were holding. 

“Well, it is about time you two do something about all the tension you created between yourselves,” Mary still had the large smile on her face. 

John and Sherlock glanced at each other, both with confused looks on their faces. 

“What do you mean the tension between us?” John asked. 

Mary narrowed her eyes and smiled. “You're kidding, right?” 

Sherlock looked down at his lap and smirked as he looked up at Mary through his long dark lashes. John simply shook his head. 

“John,” Mary giggled as she gave him a playful slap on the arm. “You and Sherlock have spent more time with your heads together studying, or at lunch, you two would find any excuse to touch each other, just like you would touch me. Emile has even noticed, she's kinda weirded out by it, but she thinks it's cute at the same time.” 

John sighed deeply and Sherlock furrowed his brow at him. 

“That's the most frustrating thing about this,” John paused and chuckled to himself. “Well not the most frustrating, but one of the frustrating things. The way I feel about you, the way I feel when I'm with you, whenever we touch, I feel ten times with Sherlock.” 

Both Sherlock and Mary blushed. 

“I think we should probably start paying attention to how we act with each other in public,” John turned toward Sherlock as he placed a hand on his leg. Sherlock felt his pulse elevate and found it hard to concentrate on anything other than John's hand, John's voice, John.  
How could one touch have this affect on him? How can one human have this much impact on another human? 

“Sherlock did you hear me?” John's voice broke through Sherlock's reverie. He shook his head and Mary giggled. 

“Yes, John, every word,” 

“You're lying.”

Sherlock furrowed his brow at John. 

“You would have some fact or some cranky comment. That's how I know you're lying.” 

“I must admit to not hearing anything after you said that we should pay closer attention to each other, ironically enough.” Sherlock cleared his throat. “Sorry.” 

John shook his head. “I was just saying we need to watch ourselves at school. I don't think our relationship will be widely accepted.”

“It is unfortunate that most of the students aren't as accepting as we are.” Mary looked down at her hands and realized she was still holding John's and brought it up to her cheek. “I do care for both of you, a lot, and I knew that when John came over that night we were all together, I knew you two would somehow become instant friends. I was, of course as besotted with you as you probably were with me. So I gave you a chance, and I am glad I did. So I will do my best to help protect both of you as best as I can.” 

“Thank you Mary, I really do appreciate that,” John gave her the biggest smile. 

“Oh, I have a present for you. I'll be right back.” She patted John's leg and stood and skipped out of the room. 

John smiled as he watched her. Sherlock leaned forward and whispered in his ear as he gestured with his finger. 

“Just a heads up. There are cameras and microphones all over this room. In fact the whole house is wired.” 

John turned his head slightly and he could feel the others breath on his cheek. His eyes roamed over Sherlock's distinct profile, his smart blue-green eyes were watching him. 

“Why?” 

“I don't know, but I have the feeling it has to do with her parents.” Sherlock smiled against his cheek and placed a kiss there as Mary walked back into the room, a small box in her hands.

“Here,” she said as she smiled widely and placed the box in John's hands. It was small and flat and wrapped in simple blue paper. 

“Oh...oh, this is nice,” John commented as he brought a brown leather journal out of the box after he unwrapped it. A small, embellished crown was imprinted into the leather, with the Union Jack just below. 

“There's more in the box,” Mary pointed as John ran his finger over the cover. Sherlock leaned over him and John handed the journal over to him. His eyebrows shot up when he saw the silver and blue pen in the box. 

“M-Mary...” he said breathlessly. He picked it up like he was picking up a glass figurine, and rolled it between his fingers. The actual body of the pen was encased in blue steel and that was encased in silver that was shaped into filigrees and other whimsical shapes. “Mary, it's beautiful.” 

“And expensive,” Sherlock interjected as he took the pen from John. “The steel casing on this pen is worth more than all of the silver and the ink inside is going to be rare India -” 

“Sherlock,” John's tone was threatening. 

The dark haired boy pursed his lips together and handed the pen back to John. 

“It's very nice, Mary.” 

Mary smirked and John kissed her on the cheek.

“Thank you. It's a very sweet gift. I love it.” 

“You are welcome. And I hope you'll use the pen to write to me when I'm gone.” Mary's smiled dimmed.

“Gone? What? Where are you going?” John scooted forward in his seat. Sherlock only frowned in concentration as he studied her face. 

“My parents have taken a job offer in America. They have been contemplating it for a couple weeks. I am afraid of a new country, but I am excited for new adventures.” 

“Mary, I-I don't know what to say,” 

“Well you'll have plenty of time to think of it.” She took his hand again. “We aren't leaving for a couple months.”

“Then, you'll see so much of Sherlock and I, you'll be sick of us!” John wrapped Mary in his arms. 

“I hope so,” her voice broke and when John pulled away, he saw her eyes shining with unshed tears. He placed a hand on her cheek as Sherlock kept quiet. “I'm going to miss you. And you too Sherlock.” 

“Mary,” her mother appeared in the doorway. She was almost an identical match to Mary. Same blond hair. Same sparkling blue eyes. Same bright smile. “Tea is ready.” 

“Thank you, mother.” Mary nodded. 

“Do not be late.” Her mother's tone was clipped as she turned and left the room. 

Sherlock raised his brow as he stood and nonchalantly watched her mother walk down the hall. 

“I'm sorry,” Mary said as she stood. “I'll walk you boys out.” 

Sherlock chewed his thumb and paced the sidewalk as John said goodbye to Mary. Mary's mother could be heard calling her name at the same time Harry pulled up alongside the curb. Sherlock immediately hopped inside and stared out of the window, his knee shaking with nervous energy. 

“Hey, bouncy,” John's sister called as she looked at Sherlock in the rear-view. “You wanna cool it with the knee. Shocks aren't what they used to be.” 

When he didn't stop, Harry turned and smacked his knee. He gave her a look that would have made a normal person back away, but Harry wasn't moved. 

“What's with you?” Her furrowed brow turned into a smirk. “Jealous?” 

“Hardly,” he replied simply. 

“Then what?”

“It's complicated. I'll tell you when I have more information.” Then to himself he thought, 'If it's not too late.' 

 

It didn't take much for Sherlock to convince Sophia to let him stay for dinner. He was well aware of the effect his eyes had on most people, and they served their purpose with Sophia. He was in their tiny sitting room, talking on their phone with Mycroft while John was in the kitchen talking with his mother. Harry left to pick up her girlfriend and John's present.

“Just do it, please Mycroft,” John heard Sherlock say when he walked into the sitting room. Sherlock saw him out of the corner of his eye. “I have to go. I'll have your information for you by tomorrow afternoon.” 

John watched the dark-haired boy with a furrowed brow.

“Hey,” Sherlock said as he casually hung up the phone and smiled at John.

“What … was that?” John asked as he walked further into the room to face the other boy. 

“I was talking with my father and Mycroft, letting them know I wasn't going to be home this evening,” Sherlock tugged at the cuffs on his jacket, avoiding eye-contact with John.

“No, what was all that about information?” 

Sherlock blinked a couple times and looked up at John through dark lashes as he cocked an eyebrow. He drew in a breath and started to speak when John interrupted him. 

“Wait,” the sandy-haired boy gestured at Sherlock who smirked at him. John sat on the tiny love-seat beside him. “Where are you going to be tonight if your not going to be home?” 

“Well, hopefully snuggled up with you in your bed.” Sherlock put an arm on the back of the couch as he turned and smiled at John. 

“My mom -” John stopped himself as he leaned forward to make sure his mother was still in the kitchen and not eavesdropping on them. Sherlock followed his line of sight and saw his mother with a frilly half apron and two oven mitts, staring into the oven, a phone cradled between her ear and shoulder having a serious and quiet conversation with someone. 

John continued in a hushed whisper. 

“My mom isn't going to let you spend the night, let alone in my room with me!” 

“I know,” Sherlock leaned forward so he was nose to nose with John. “That's why I'm going to leave after all the festivities, then sneak into your room.”

“Why do yo-” 

Before John could finish his sentence, Sherlock's perfect lips were on his, and he suddenly couldn't remember what he was going to say. His hand wandered up to the dark curls as Sherlock's hand rested on the others thigh, dangerously close to certain bits. John hated that all it took was the thought of Sherlock's hands on his body to arouse him. He took pleasure in knowing that the same went for Sherlock. 

 

 

A couple hours later, after much convincing from John and Sophie, Harry and her girlfriend Bertie were sitting at the dinner table, along with everyone else, making small talk and enjoying the lovely home-made dinner that Sophie made. She loved to cook, but with her erratic schedule and John's and Harry's busy school schedules, she rarely had the time or the opportunity. John and Harry loved their mothers cooking and even Sherlock, who rarely ate, was enjoying the dinner. 

John and Sherlock and Bertie were immersed in conversation about the shared enthusiasm for the orchestra that both Sherlock and Bertie were involved in. Bertie played bass mostly, but she could switch between cello and clarinet just as easily. Sherlock's expertise lie in the violin, but he loved the cello, flute and oboe. John would have never have guessed that such a charismatic and talented person was hidden under such a calm and cute exterior that was Bertie. She seemed very sporty, with her dishwater blond hair pulled back into a ponytail, her hazel eyes were very clear and observant and she wore a letter jacket, that when she took it off, revealed a beautiful tattoo of a cherry blossom tree on her upper arm. 

The lights suddenly went off in the dining room and a glow came from the doorway to the kitchen. John sighed and dipped his head as his mother started in on the birthday song. Soon everyone was in on the song, even Sherlock, whose voice cracked once and John smirked. 

“Make a wish, John,” Sophie's smile was almost as bright as the candles on the cake. 

“Mom, I'm sixteen,” John countered, exasperation obvious in his voice. 

Harry nudged his elbow. “Do it!” 

“Son, this might be my last opportunity to have a cake for you,” she walked over and ruffled his hair and kissed him on the top of the head.

John drew in a breath and looked over at Sherlock and smiled. He found that Sherlock was staring at him and, in the dim light, his cheekbones and gorgeous eyes took on an ethereal glow. John watched as the corner of Sherlock's perfect lips raised and parted as if to say something. Instead he smirked and winked. John returned the smirk and licked his lips as he turned to blow out the candles. 

 

 

 

 

Later that evening, as John settled into his bed, he heard a quiet tapping at his window, and grinned. Throwing the covers off, he padded over to the window and opened it as quietly as he could. 

“Didn't you freeze out there?” John asked in a hushed whisper as Sherlock climbed through the window. 

“No,” the dark-haired boy grunted as he swung his leg through. “ I know someone who lives down the street and around the corner. I hung out there for the duration of the time.” 

John watched as Sherlock shook his hair and was sprinkled with melted snow. He peeked outside and watched as big fluffy flakes fell to the already white earth. 

“Mmm...I love the snow,” the sandy-haired boy commented as he carefully shut the window and turned to face Sherlock. He was about to ask Sherlock who he knew, when he caught the scent of something he could only identify as some sort of tobacco. He sniffed the other as Sherlock backed away from John. 

“Hey!”

“Have you been smoking?” 

“Yeah, cloves,” Sherlock paused. “Ah, it's an acquired smell. Sorry, I should have thought...I didn't think...I'll leave my jacket outside.” 

“No, it's fine, I think,” John rubbed his jaw. “I'll just tell my mom...something. I'll hang it in my closet so it can at least get dry.” 

Sherlock watched as John hung his coat. As soon as he was done, he grabbed the boy by his waist and turned him around and kissed him, hard and passionately. His hands were suddenly everywhere and John, not being prepared was stunned. He wanted to push the other off; however what his hand was doing to his backside felt too good for him to make it stop. 

John snaked one hand around Sherlock's neck, and the other around his waist, pulling him closer. Sherlock moaned in John's ear as his hand made it's way around the front and down John's pants. 

“Omygoshsherlockyourhandiscold,” John's words were barely audible as he pushed Sherlock away. 

Sherlock snickered and breathed on his hands and rubbed them together. John smirked and wrapped his hands around the long slender ones that were Sherlock's. 

“So, who do you know in this area of town?” John inquired, trying not to sound jealous. 

“It's...it's my aunt Violet on my dads side,” John watched as Sherlock's jaw clenched. 

“I thought most of your family lived on your side of the town?” John paused. “Wait, Violet? You said Violet? Violet Sherrinford?” 

“Yeah,” Sherlock said as he shivered. 

“Mom started going over to her place to keep her company and make her dinners a couple months ago.” John rubbed Sherlock's hands. 

“Oh, well, that explains the food and the better mood she's been in. Dad must have put her on 'The Caring List' when his case load became too much for him to go see her. I try to go over once a week to see her. Don't tell your mom, or my dad, that she smokes clove cigarettes. Dad thought she quit years ago, but she hides it well, except for tonight.” He crinkled his nose. “You have the nose of a bloodhound John.” 

John looked away. “Yeah, my mum says the same.” 

Sherlock cocked his head and kissed the others nose and watched as his cheeks started to flush. 

“I rather like your nose.” 

They smiled at each other for a moment before Sherlock caught John's lips in a chaste kiss. 

“Let's get into my bed,” John said breathlessly after he pulled away from the kiss. “Your hands will warm up faster.” 

 

Sherlock left quietly at the break of dawn, leaving John with his scent on his pillow. 

They spent most of the Winter holiday at each others houses and Christmas day in front of the giant fireplace in the study of the Holmes flat. John accidentally outed their relationship to William Holmes when he kissed Sherlock on the cheek. Sherlock's father was speechless at first, but he told them that he didn't mind. 

“Just don't let your mother catch wind of your relationship,” he said as he sipped his scotch. “She will highly disapprove and will stop at nothing to make sure you never see each other again.” 

Sherlock furrowed his brow and John nodded. 

 

Sherlock spent an unfortunate day at his mothers place for his birthday and it was the first time since the start of their relationship that him and John were apart for any length of time. John asked Sherlock's father to help him get a head start on his lessons to keep him busy.

“Can I confess something to you John?” William asked in the middle of one of his lessons.

John simply blinked at him, not sure what to say. He finally nodded his answer.

“I never imagined Sherlock in a relationship, let alone with another boy. His mother did a fine job sucking all the emotion out of this house and the boys did well hiding and masking their emotions. That is until you came along. I noticed a change in Sherlock as soon as you two started becoming friends. He's a lot more relaxed and it's nice to see him smile again. I am afraid it might be too late for Mycroft, but I do hope he finds someone just as smart and beautiful, or handsome, as you, John.” 

John felt his whole upper body flush. No one ever said anything like that to him, or about him, before. He looked down at the papers scattered on the table, hoping that an answer or a prompt would jump out at him. Anything to keep his ears from ringing so. 

He jumped when William clapped his hand on his shoulder. 

“It's okay, I unloaded a lot of stuff just then and I didn't mean for it to be so - well, anyway,” 

John finally looked up at the man who was smiling with pride at him. 

“You are a good man, John. Your father would be proud of you.” William squeezed John's shoulder and nodded and sniffed. Then walked over to his desk. 

John swallowed hard, fighting the tears that threatened to come. 

 

Lessons started a few days later in typical London fashion, wet and rainy. The piles of dirty snow added to the gray landscape that blended into the gray cloudy sky. It all add to the melancholy that John was feeling when Sherlock hadn't made it back before school started. He never thought he would feel so deeply for another person, let alone someone like Sherlock. He would smile and a dreamy look would come over his face whenever he thought of Sherlock. Harry even smacked him a couple times to bring him out of his daydream in the middle of their conversations. 

When they finally saw each other in the hallway outside their classroom, it took all their willpower not to scoop each other into hugs. Instead, Sherlock swaggered up to John and rested his arm on the wall above John's head. John quirked an eyebrow at the boy as he noted the growth spurt that Sherlock went through; John had to look up at him, whereas before, they were at the same eye level. John was suddenly unaware of the other students walking past. 

“That was...I shouldn't do that,” Sherlock chuckled as he shuffled himself into his usual pose. 

“I rather like your swagger,” John smirked at him. 

“It didn't feel right, but maybe I'll practice,” Sherlock looked down at his shoes as he clasped his hands behind his back. “I'm sorry I wasn't back in time to see you before classes started. My mother...her cancer has come back and pretty aggressively.” 

“I'm sorry to hear that,” John rested a hand on his shoulder. 

“It'll be fine. I don't get along with her well, but I wouldn't wish what she is going through on my worst enemy. Not even her mother, whom I despise with all of my being.” 

John watched Sherlock's expression grow dark as he spoke. 

“Sorry, I have very strong negative feelings toward my grandmother that I haven't been able to express until recently. But I don't need to reflect them onto you. Anyway, her doctors have given her about seven or eight months to live, so I will be back and forth between here and France in that time.” 

“Okay. What can I do for you?” John started to say, but was interrupted by the cricket player he had punched last semester. 

“You guys gonna kiss, or what?” He pushed John into the wall and laughed at them. John was mortified when he saw a small crowd gathered. “Queers.” He said as he walked into the classroom. 

“Asshole!” Sherlock started going after, but John stopped him. He waited for the crowd to disperse before he let go of Sherlock. He took a double take into the crowd, as he thought he saw Emile looking at them, concerned. 

 

“So you and Sherlock are dating, aren't you?” Emile asked John as they were waiting for Emile's mother. 

John exhaled loudly as he looked down at his shoes. He could feel himself blushing.

“Yes, yes we are,” 

An awkward silence passed and John finally looked up at the pretty girl, her face locked in concentration. 

“You-...You hate it don't you?”

“No, not at all,” her expression lightened. “I think its the cutest thing ever and it's about high time you and Sherlock did something about all that tension.”

“Why does everyone think there was tension between us?”

Emile giggled behind her hand. 

“Because whenever you and Sherlock are in a room together, you are either gazing lovingly at one another, or playing footsie under the table.” 

“We don't play footsie,” 

“Well, your expressions say otherwise,” 

John was about to respond when he was suddenly spun around by his shoulder. Strong hands grabbed him by the waist and dipped him. Before he knew it, he was being kissed. 

When Sherlock finally brought him upright, they were both flushed and John was nervously adjusting his shirt. Mary and Emile were giggling.

“What the bloody hell was that for?” John asked as he looked over at Sherlock who had a big Cheshire cat grin on his face.

“You are looking at the lead in the biggest school play of the year!” Sherlock started to swing his hips and gesture widely as he sang 'Grease Lightning'. Everyone started to congratulate him, but were stunned at his dance moves and singing voice. 

“Sherlock Holmes!” Mary exclaimed. “Who knew you were full of so much talent.” 

“Congratulations, sir!” John made an exaggerated bow. 

“Hey fags! Maybe you should get a room!” A loud group of upper-class girls walked by them on the other side of the street and started giggling. 

Sherlock extended his middle finger and John glared. 

“At least they have boyfriends,” Emile called. “Where are yours?” 

One of the older girls broke away and started across the street. Emile held her ground as Mary took a step back. Sherlock and John were stunned, but ready to fight. 

“What did you say, little girl?” the older girl only had a couple inches on Emile. 

“I was wondering what a bunch of chavs were doing going to an elite school?” 

In an instant, the older girl had a hold of Emile's hair and threw her to the ground. John, never wanting to hit a girl, pushed her away and started to attend to Emile. The girl kicked at John but missed as Sherlock grabbed her arms and pushed her into the street. She came storming back at Sherlock as he raised his fists in defense. She took a wide swing at him as he ducked and jabbed her in the stomach. She bent over, coughing just as Amanda pulled up. 

“What the hell is going on here?” She asked as she got out of her car and ran to Emile's aide. 

“Your fagot boys were making a spectacle of themselves,” the older girl explained between coughs. 

“I'm sure I don't know what you are talking about. I think you should leave.” Amanda helped Emile to her feet.

The girl turned and walked across to her friends who were calling names. Sherlock simply stood with both of his middle-fingers held out to them. 

“Sherlock Holmes!” Amanda cried as she opened her door. “Get in this car, now!” 

“Now,” Amanda started after they were settled in the car and stopped at a street light. “Does someone want to explain to me why I shouldn't ground Emile and tell Mr. Holmes about Sherlock?” 

“Ma'am, Emile was-” 

“The older girls were making fun of me and Emile and Sherlock came to my defense.” Mary's words came out in a jumbled rush. 

“And why all the horrible name calling?” 

“They were defaming Sherlock's character for singing,” 

John couldn't figure out why Mary was lying, but he was grateful that Amanda was satisfied with the answer. 

“Sherlock, I'm not going to tell your father that I saw you punch that girl. He has enough on his plate with his mother-in-law.” 

“Wait, what?” 

“Your Grandmother is at the flat. I thought you ought to know before you arrived.”

“Thank you. Is Mycroft there?” 

“Yes,” she glanced up at him through the rear view and frowned when she saw Sherlock's hand on John's knee. He immediately moved it. “She was waiting for your father when I left to pick you guys up. I expect she'll still be there when we get back.” 

 

John's first impression of Sherlock's Grandmother was loud and prudent. He heard her yelling from the study as he ran up the stairs to help Mary attend to Emile. 

“I'm going to have a headache for a while,” Emile said as she rubbed her head. She was sitting on the side of the tub. “But otherwise I'm fine.” 

“I can't believe Sherlock threw such a hard punch,” Mary commented as John opened the medicine cabinet and brought out some pills. “I didn't realize he could do that.” 

“Me neither. Thank you,” Emile said as John handed her the pills and a glass of water.

“You're welcome. They are really good for headaches and muscle aches,” 

“I don't want to know why you know that.” Mary grinned as she punched John lightly in the arm. 

John returned the smile as he mocked rubbing his arm. 

“Why did you lie about what happened?” He asked.

“My mother is...very Catholic,” Emile sighed. “Even though she doesn't act like it, she's very strict in her morals and rules.” 

“Emile,” Sherlock interrupted, out of breath and disheveled. “Your mother the nun wants to speak to you.” He grabbed John and pulled him out of the bathroom with protest. “You in my room now.” 

Emile and Mary giggled. 

“I'll be in the living room if you need me.” John heard Mary say before Sherlock shut the door to his room. 

Before John could say anything or react, Sherlock was across the room with his lips over Johns and working at the button on his trousers. 

“Hey,” John tried to push Sherlock's hands away, to no avail. “Sherlock!” 

The dark-haired boy froze. Then he sighed and leaned his forehead against John's.

“I'm sorry,” he said as John loosened his grip. “I'm just so frustrated and I don't know how to deal with it.” 

“Well, we can talk, that's a way to deal with what ever is going on.” John started to put himself back together again, but Sherlock grabbed his wrists, tightly. 

“I can't talk. I need you...” Sherlock paused and sniffed. John tried to step away to look at the other, but he kept his head down. “I need you tonight before everything is gone.” 

“Sherlock, what the hell are you talking about?” John lifted his hands, which were in a much looser grip, and tilted Sherlock's face. A tear escaped his eye and John kissed it away. “Talk to me, please.” 

“M-My mother, only has a few days...and my grandmother wants my father to sign a will handing custody of me over to her,” 

“What? Why?” 

“Because she doesn't think I'm getting the education or the well-roundedness here as I would with her.” 

John threw his arms around Sherlock. “Oh, god, no. You can't leave. I can't loose you.” 

Sherlock buried his face in John's neck and pulled John to him. “I know. That's why I need you...I want us to...I want to feel you, all of you. I want to be...”

John drew in a shaky breath. Did he want to have sex? Yes. Did he want to have Sex with Sherlock? Yes. Did he know the first thing about what to do? No. 

“I-I want you, too,” John wanted to tell Sherlock that there will be plenty of chances, that they should wait for better circumstances. But he wasn't sure that any of that was true. 

He pulled away and cupped Sherlock's face, wiping the tears with his thumbs. 

“I...am scared, Sherlock, but, I love you and I want this with you.” 

Sherlock swallowed. “You...love me?” 

“Yes, of course I do,” 

“I love you, John,” 

John wasn't sure if it was the circumstances, but the way Sherlock said his name so desperately, turned john on even more. 

“Are we...you know, prepared?” 

“Don't be mad, but I bought stuff. I was hoping we could celebrate me landing the lead, but circumstances being what they are, I think-”

John suddenly kissed Sherlock with all his passion and Sherlock stumbled. They giggled between kisses as Sherlock righted himself and kissed John as if he was going to disappear. 

 

**Novocain**

_'The cross that you carry,_  
_will be mine to bear_  
_and I can put up with the pain...the pain..._

_Let me be_  
_your novocain_  
_If you let me,_  
_I can keep the wolves at bay.'_

 

**Night Terrors of 1927**


End file.
